"Two thousand men at Buffalo," Ned answered. "And four hundred at Fort Niagara, which has stone bastions, and the best guns on the river. A hundred men could easily hold it against a thousand." For seven nights the log fires threw their search-lights across the river, and armed patrols watched, but they saw no movements on the Canadian side. On the eighth night, the river was dark. Leonard, commander of Fort Niagara, having ascertained the British had no artillery, and feeling sure they would not attempt to cross the dangerous river, drew in his pickets, for it was a bitter night. On the Canadian side there was a quiet stir among the men waiting savagely by the ashes of Newark, a crouching lion. The regiment marched silently out of the ruined town and up the river. Not a word was allowed to be spoken, and commands were passed down the ranks in whispers. Ferguson and Ned were together again as they entered the boats, which crept across the black river with muffled oars, the tense excitement of the men keeping them from feeling the cold. And distant and menacing sounded the deep thunder of Niagara. They landed, unseen, at Youngstown, three miles above Fort Niagara. Here was the American hospital with its fill of wounded men. Noiselessly the buildings were surrounded, and a party entered, the sight of the hated redcoats telling the alarmed patients they were prisoners. Two brave men, convalescents, did not submit. Ready to die on the chance of being able to give the alarm, one sprang up the wide chimney, but was dragged back, promptly and roughly. The other leaped from a window, but was overtaken. "We must go on, to get food and clothes for Newark," said Ferguson in a low earnest voice, "but, remember, men, for every deed we do to-night we must answer to God our Judge." He went on speaking quietly as boat after boat touched shore, and the men crowded near him, listening in respectful silence, till the word of command sent them moving silently along the road to Fort Niagara. No one saw them, but a man had gone ahead of them--Sells, the deserter. He had been stealing cattle on the Canadian side, till the retreat, when he followed the Americans across the river. Now he came swiftly to the fort gate on his crunching snowshoes, urging the immediate lighting of the "search-lights" along the river. "I know the English way," he said to the sergeant-major, who came out between the massive walls to see what he had to say. "They'll fool 'round making mistakes, till the enemy do something like you did at Newark, then they'll get serious-mad. Nothing will stop them, and I shouldn't wonder if they're not crossing the river now." "You're scared of them British; I'm not," said the American with an oath. "If they cross on a night like this it'll be because they can walk on the water."