The night passed quietly and in the morning the enemy showed no disposition to move, so that the preparations for their reception went on, and the troops worked all day, the woods re-echoing the sound of their axes as they felled trees to roll into heaps to form rude breastworks. In the afternoon General de Watteville rode up and carefully inspected all that had been done, and returned to his quarters satisfied, and altogether unwitting that the attack was to be made from another direction in a few hours. The day had been cloudy, cheerless, and cold, and as it faded, rain began to fall. The men sought such cover and warmth as they could find and the officers assembled to spend the night in carousing. So raw, dark, and uninviting was it that not one in the British camp supposed the enemy would be astir. But they were. At sunset, 1500 men left the American camp, marched down to the river, forded the rapids, and began their march down the south bank with the intent of capturing the ford at Morrison’s at daylight. Next morning, the eventful 26th October, 1813, the Forsyths, unsuspicious of what was passing under the woods around them, were at breakfast, when the door was dashed in and Hemlock appeared, dripping wet. “I want a messenger to go to Macdonell to tell him the Americans are on their way to him,” he shouted. “Confound them,” exclaimed Forsyth, “I’ll gang at ance.” “An’ leave us twa women bodies oor lane?” complained his wife, “No, no, you maun bide, an’ proteck us.” Hemlock was disconcerted. “Maggie,” he appealed, “won’t you go? Take the canoe and you will be at the ford in a few minutes.” “Yes,” she responded, with quiet decision, “and what am I to say?” “Tell the Colonel that the Americans in strength are marching through the woods on this side of the river, intending to surprise him and capture his position. Their advance will be on him in half an hour. Say to him, to send over men to meet them and I will join with my band. I go to watch them.” Without another word, he left and rushed back into the forest. Maggie stepped lightly to where the canoe was moored, loosened the rope, and paddled down the river with all the strength she had. When it struck the bank at Morrison’s she was glad to see so many astir and hastened to the door. “You, Maggie, at this early hour,” cried Mrs Morrison, “naething wrang I hope?” “I must see the Colonel,” she said, catching for breath. “There he is,” said Mrs Morrison, pointing to an officer engaged in reading a letter by the fire. Maggie repeated Hemlock’s message. Macdonell listened with sparkling eyes, and when she had done said, “Thank you, my bonnie lass, you have done the King a service, and when the Yankees come they will find us ready to gie their lang nebs a smell o’ oor claymores.”