"Not for a little while, my officer. You have had enough for the present, and the sun beats like the devil out there, which is very dangerous for a wound on the head. We are going to leave you in the shade of these trees." D'Haberville, too weak to oppose them further, soon found himself lying among a number of the wounded, who had had strength enough to drag themselves into the grove. Every one knows its result, this second battle of the Plains of Abraham. The victory was dear bought by the French and the Canadians, who suffered no less severely than their enemies. It was a useless bloodshed. New France, abandoned by the mother country, was ceded to England by the careless Louis three years after the battle. Lochiel had cleared himself nobly of the suspicions which his foe, Montgomery, had sought to fix upon him. His wide knowledge, his zeal in the study of his profession, his skill in all military exercises, his sobriety, his vigilance when in guard of a post, all these had put him high in esteem. His dashing courage tempered with prudence in the attack on the French lines at Montmorency and on the field of the first Battle of the Plains had been noticed by General Murray, who commended him publicly. On the defeat of the English army at this second battle, Lochiel, after tremendous fighting at the head of his Highlanders, was the last to yield a position which he had defended inch by inch. Instead of following the throng of fugitives toward Quebec, he noticed that Dumont's Mill was now evacuated by the French, who were pursuing their enemies with great slaughter. To conceal his route from the enemy, Archie led his men between the mill and the adjoining wood. Just then he heard some one calling his name; and turning, he saw an officer, his arm in a sling, his uniform in tatters, his head wrapped in a bloody cloth, staggering to meet him sword in hand. "What are you doing, brave Cameron of Lochiel?" cried the unknown. "The mill has been evacuated by our brave soldiers, and is no longer defended by women and children and feeble old men. Return, valorous Cameron, and crown your exploits by burning it down." It was impossible to mistake the mocking voice of Jules D'Haberville, although his face was unrecognizable for blood and powder. On hearing these insulting words, Archie felt nothing but tenderest loving pity for the friend of his youth. His heart beat as if to break; a sob labored from his bosom, and again he seemed to hear the witch of the manor crying ominously: "Keep your pity for yourself, Archibald de Lochiel. You will have need of it all on that day when you shall carry in your arms the bleeding body of him you now call your brother!" Forgetting the critical position in which he was keeping his men, Archie halted his company and went forward to meet Jules. For one moment all the young Frenchman's love for his adopted brother seemed to revive, but, restraining himself sternly, he cried in a bitter voice: