Meanwhile how fared it with the other American armies? General van Rensselaer brought his clamorous, eager followers to Niagara, where the mighty torrent of waters scarce could drown their huzzas of expected victory when they sighted from afar Canadian soil. The woods flamed with crimson and yellow, vineyards were thick with their purple harvests when Van Rensselaer led his army to the attack on Queenston heights. The Canadian shore of the Niagara River rose sheer and splendid from the foaming rapids below. At a spot where the river's course is somewhat checked the embarkation took place. The sound of oars caught the ear of a sentinel, and a Canadian battery opened fire. Too late! The Americans also had their batteries planted, and they were far more numerous. Thirteen hundred Americans, led by Captain Wool, moved slowly up the slope and gained the summit. The sound of the firing reached Fort George, where General Brock then was. No time was to be lost; he flew to the fray. The Americans must be dislodged at the point of the bayonet. "Scale the heights!" rang out as the battle-cry. Waving his sword at the head of the charging lines, Brock's voice {266} could be heard shouting, "Push on, ye brave York volunteers!" The words had scarce left his lips ere the brave Brock sank down shot through the breast. Under the hot fire from the summit on Queenston heights the ranks of his followers were fast mowed down--so fast, that at length the Canadians were fain to halt awhile to gather breath. They had not suffered without inflicting suffering on the foe. The American general was disabled, many of his troops killed, and his position on the crest far from secure. Although he still had several hundred more men than the Canadians could bring against him, and 4000 more American soldiers were at hand on the other side of the river, the fate of the invaders was sealed. Brock's successor, Roger Sheaffe, stormed them on three sides, while on the fourth side was a precipice, 200 feet deep, its base washed by the angry river. They fought madly, but nothing could stop the fury of the Canadian charge. Back, back they fell until the very edge of the precipice was reached. There was nothing now but death or surrender, and 1100 Americans laid down their arms and became prisoners of war. When the first year's campaign came to an end Canadian soil had been freed from the invader.