Cold and much snow came with November, but Wilkinson did not mean to stop. On November fifth, the startled scouts on the Canadian side saw one of the most dramatic scenes of the whole war. Between its snow-covered banks the St. Lawrence was storming black through the Galops Rapids, the first below Kingston, and down that rush of dark water, flecked with spurts of white foam, hundreds of bateaux, splendidly handled, were shooting one after another, laden with thousands of blue-coated men. But Kingston did not intend to remain idle. She sent eight hundred men with a battery, to do anything they could. They fired on, and followed the bateaux, which suffered some loss. The enemy being delayed by want of provisions, and the landing parties sent out to forage, found to their dismay that the French-Canadian farmers had fled, burning what stores they could not take with them, and driving off their cattle. On November tenth, the invaders, suffering much with cold and hunger, had most of their force down the Long Sault. Two thousand men were still above that great rapid, when a terrific fire was opened on them from the bank. The only thing to do was to land and dislodge the enemy. So was fought the battle of Chrysler's Farm. Eight hundred men with two cannon, poured a hot fire from behind the stone farm fences, then rushed out, and charged the invaders with flashing bayonets. Leaving many behind them, the Americans retreated in confusion to the boats, and ran the rapids. Wilkinson had just heard of Hampton's defeat, and as his men were starving, and the fights at Chrysler's and Chateauguay had taught him the kind of "welcome" he would get from Lower Canada, he retired entirely. * * * An old gray-headed man had command of the tiny battery at Chrysler's--Sir John Haslem--and after the victory he went on to Montreal, where Vere, now a lieutenant, was stationed. Since Vere's escape through Ned's condemnation, he had lived carefully, attending to his duties, and very hard on the failings of those under him. "Can't be medium in anything," grumbled Sir John as he stood in a Montreal ball-room on Christmas evening watching Vere dancing with a pretty French-Canadian girl. "A year ago he was slackness itself, now he seems to delight in detecting and punishing slackness in others." "He'll die by a shot from his own men in some battle," said the man he spoke to, to himself, adding aloud, "Hullo, what's the matter?" The music had stopped and a man coming in called to Vere: "Hell's broke loose on the Niagara frontier, and we're to leave for there to-night." CHAPTER IX. How Ned Won the "Bubble Reputation", at the Cannon's Mouth.