It was Sir John of whom Bee was thinking when Eli came to tell her that he was about to start for the American lines. Would she come with him, or stay, to be a Canadian, among Canadians? "Must you go," she said brokenly, "to fight Ned--and Papa Edgar?" There was white pain in her face, for like many another woman on the Canadian-American border, her heart was torn by the horror of this almost civil war. She clung to him pathetically, as though afraid to let him go. "I must go to my grandfather," she half whispered. "I know no one can comfort him now, still he did love me, and I must go to him." "Take care of her," said Eli briefly, as he left, and he looked at Ned, not Edgar. For a week Bee and her friends travelled through the thick bush, and then on Sunday, July twenty-fourth, they rested, hearing far-off the thunder of Niagara. It was here that to the keen hearing of the Indians came the sound of church bells ringing a frantic alarm, and hastily they broke camp, to push on, guessing their meaning--a fresh advance of the invader. And away in Niagara Sir John was still in ignorance of his shame, although it was three weeks since Vere had disappeared. Believing him to be a prisoner and comparatively safe, his whole anxiety was for his little grand-daughter. That torridly hot Monday afternoon, July twenty-fifth, Sir John sat on his horse, stiffly correct, in a little graveyard near the Falls. Behind was a gray church, and all round the cemetery ran a stone wall where berry bushes grew thick. In front, the ground sloped down to a road--Lundy's Lane--with thick orchards of apple and peach on either side. The previous Sunday had been one of alarm in Niagara. A week before the enemy had fallen back on Chippewa, and the British had followed as far as the Falls. Then Winfield Scott managed to deceive them so completely as to his intentions, that Riall sent twelve hundred men under Drummond to Fort George. Only sixteen hundred were still with him at Lundy's Lane; Sir John was watching as his little battery clattered in among the gravestones, and the guns took position where they could sweep the road. Then in came Fitzgibbons' men with their famous bush-fighting leader, and news--five thousand Americans were marching from Chippewa. Riall ordered a retreat to Queenston, and half his force had started when the enemy came down Lundy's Lane. It was an unpremeditated battle on both sides. The British were trying to get away, and the enemy thought they were at Queenston. Scott, however, attacked instantly, afraid they might escape into the bush, hurling his men up the hill to where the battle flag of England waved over the church, and the guns vomited death above the graves of the quiet dead.