While the group in the mess-room were preparing to turn into their sleeping-bunks, the sharp challenge of the sentry, pacing the ramparts without, was heard. The report of his musket and, in a few moments, the shrill notes of the bugle sounding the "turn out," created an alarm. The men snatched their guns and side-arms, and were soon drawn up in company on the quadrangle of the fort. The clang of the chains of the sally-port rattled, the draw-bridge fell, the heavy iron-studded gates swung back, and three prisoners were brought in who were expostulating warmly with the guard, and demanding to be led to the officer for the night. When they were brought to the light which poured from the open door of the guard- room, it was discovered with surprise that two of the prisoners wore the familiar red and green of the 49th regiment, and that the third was in officer's uniform. But their attire was so torn, burnt, and blackened with powder, and draggled and soaked with water, that the guard got a good deal of chaffing from their comrades for their capture. "This is treating us worse than the enemy," said one of the soldiers, "and that was bad enough." The adjutant now appeared upon the scene to inquire into the cause of the disturbance. "I have the honour to bear despatches from General Sheaffe," said the young officer; when the adjutant promptly requested him to proceed to his quarters, and sent the others to the mess-room, with orders for their generous refreshment. There their comrades gathered round them, eagerly inquiring the nature of the disaster, which, from the words that they had heard, they inferred had befallen the left wing of the regiment, quartered at the town of York. In a few brief words they learned with dismay that the capital of the country was captured by the enemy, that the public buildings and the shipping were burned, that the fort was blown up, and that a heavy loss had befallen both sides. While the men dried their water-soaked clothes before a fire kindled on the hearth, and ate as though they had been starved, they were subject to a cross-fire of eager questions from every side, which they answered as best they could, while busy plying knife and fork, and "re-victualling the garrison," the corporal said, "as though they were expecting a forty days' siege." "And siege you may have, soon enough," said Sergeant Shenston, the elder of the two men. "Chauncey and Dearborn will drop down on _you_ before the week's out." Disentangling the narrative of the men from the maze of questions and answers in which it was given, its main thread was as follows: