With clairvoyance that would have done credit to a mind-reader, Brock knew that attack was imminent. To him the wind that blew across the river October 12th was laden with omens of war. The air seemed charged with the acrid smell of burnt powder. The muffled beat of drums, the smothered boom of artillery, the subdued clash of steel meeting steel, the stealthy tramp of armed men, seemed to encompass him. * * * * * Brock was at his headquarters. He gazed from the window. The storm outside was hurling great splashes of rain against the narrow casement. To and fro, over the carpeted floor, he paced that evening for an hour or more, uninterrupted and alone. It was thus he marshalled facts and weighed conclusions. Powerful brain and vigorous frame acted in concert. He was enjoying the fulfilment of the promise of his youth. God had been good. The world had been tolerant; his fellow-men--at least those who knew the real Isaac--loyally appreciative. The knowledge of his honours and fame stirred him to his soul. Not that he was any better, or abler, he meditated, than other men, but that when "opportunity" offered he was permitted to grasp it. "For every day I stand outside your door, And bid you wake and rise to fight and win." The influence of the great truth as pronounced in the now familiar couplet inspired him. He recognized the source whence he derived whatever of success had followed his efforts, and prayed for greater sagacity, more vigour of body and tenacity of purpose, a complete surrender of self to the task before him; that if his life was to be the price of duty, he might place it on the altar of his country without one shred of compunction. * * * * * He rang the bell for Porter--his body-servant since Dobson's death--directed him to see that the council room was lighted, that pens, ink, paper and cigars were in place, as a meeting of his staff was slated for nine, and sought his sanctum. [Illustration: POWDER MAGAZINE, FORT GEORGE, NIAGARA] CHAPTER XXIV. BROCK'S LAST COUNCIL. It was long past midnight on the morning of Tuesday, October 13th, 1812, when Brock dismissed his advisory council of staff officers. An animated discussion had taken place over the strength of the enemy and the spot he might select to cross the river, for ruses had been resorted to by Van Bensselaer to deceive the British.