In one of the boats sat Wolfe, and as they drifted slowly
along in the starlight in a low voice he repeated Gray's poem called
an Elegy in a Country Churchyard:
"The boast of heraldry, the pomp of power, And all that beauty,
all that wealth e'er gave, Awaits alike th' inevitable hour, The
paths of glory lead but to the grave."
"Gentlemen," said Wolfe when he finished, "I would rather have
written those lines than take Quebec."
In dead silence now the boats drifted on. Then suddenly out of the
darkness rang a sharp challenge.
"Who goes there?" was asked in French.
"France," replied a Highland officer who spoke good French.
"What regiment?" shouted the sentry.
"The Queen's," answered the officer glibly, for luckily he had learned
from French prisoners that boats with provisions were expected by
the enemy, and that very likely the Queen's regiment would convoy
them.
The sentry was satisfied and let the boats pass. But they were not
safe yet. A little further on they were challenged again.
The same officer replied.
"Speak louder!" cried the sentry.
"Hush!" replied the Highlander, "provision boats, I say. Do not
make a noise; the British will hear us."
The sentry was quite deceived. He let the boats pass, and very soon
the men were safely landed.
Then the climb began. Like wild mountain cats the men dashed at it.
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