The night passed without any alarm. At first dawn, however, the dusky forms of the Indians were seen cautiously approaching the western angle of the intrenchments, and mustering for an attack. But two guns loaded with grape, and a sharp volley of musketry from the fort, at once drove them back yelling into the woods. After a time they gathered sufficient determination to make an attempt at burning the English boats in the harbor, which they again and again repeated, but always without success. M. de la Corne did not bring his French troops into action. Finding Colonel Haldimand well prepared for his reception, he abandoned the enterprise, having buried his dead, and carried off his wounded to the boats. The French chief acquired little honor by this impotent demonstration; not a prisoner rewarded his efforts, nor did he obtain a single scalp, although the deserters affirmed that he had offered 1000 livres for one such horrible trophy. The fierce priest, Piquet, gained a reputation for cruelty and ferocity which was not forgotten when Canada had passed from the sway of France. Thus every where in the far West success attended the British arms. One small fort, indeed, at the remote extremity of Lake Erie, on the banks of the Detroit River, still remained in the possession of France, but distance and comparative insignificance were its sole protection: shut out from supplies or re-enforcements, and feebly garrisoned, it only awaited the summons to surrender. The English force on Lake Ontario rested upon their arms after their somewhat easy victory; Amherst's strength, as we have seen, lay paralyzed by the opposing winds on Lake Champlain; the plan of the campaign as yet had failed. Opposition had been overpowered, forts taken, guns, trophies, and stores captured, but still, at the vital point, at the great Canadian stronghold, from the lofty headland of Quebec, the wise and gallant Montcalm, with an outnumbering host, looked down in unshaken confidence upon the invader's force. There the real battle was to be fought; there alone the die was to be cast which should decide the fate of France's noblest colony. Time rolled on, spring had warmed into summer; summer now deepened into autumn; the broad sycamore leaf drooped upon the stem; the rich foliage of the maple betrayed in its chameleon tints the approaching fall; the mysterious northern lights reappeared in the chilly darkness, and illumined the unclouded sky. Still, while these symptoms of the coming winter crowded upon the eyes of the British generals on Champlain and Ontario, they gained no tidings of their colleague's fate, save such vague rumors as a wandering Indian or a false deserter might convey; and yet, with wonder be it said, they sat them down to rest, and inactively awaited the event of that all-important struggle. [Footnote 171: He was a captain in the regiment of Berri.]