"I think, gentlemen, if we weigh well the character of our enemy, we shall find him disposed to brave the impediments of nature--when they afford him a probability of gaining his end by _surprise_, in preference to the certainty of meeting British troops _ready formed for his reception_. But do not, because we were successful at Detroit in stampeding the United States troops, cherish the impression that General Hull is a sample of American soldiery. If we _are_ taken by surprise the attack will soon be known, for our range of beacons extends from the Sugar Loaf to Queenston, from Lundy's Lane to Pelham Heights. Signal guns, also, will announce any suspicious movement. One word in conclusion. As soldiers you know your duty, and I think you now all understand the position we are in--as far as I know it. "General Sheaffe," he continued, turning to that officer, "I am much concerned as to the fate of this town, Niagara, if its namesake fort on the other side of the river should be tempted to forget the rules of war and bombard the private buildings here with hot-shot. However, we will do our best to give the invaders, when they do come, a warm reception. There are two things, Major," looking towards Evans, his brigade-major and intimate friend, "that our men must not omit to observe, namely, to 'trust God and keep their powder dry,' a most necessary precaution if these storms continue." * * * * * It is worthy of note that while Brock was in conference with his staff, expecting invasion any day, General Van Rensselaer, at Lewiston, was writing the subjoined brief historical despatch to his brigadier-general, Smythe: "Sir,--To-night, October 12th, I shall attack the enemy's batteries on the Heights of Queenston." * * * * * The weather was tempestuous. Rain clouds shrouded the Heights of Queenston in a black pall. The wind romped and rioted in the foliage. Brock's estimate of the character of the enemy was a masterly one. Van Rensselaer was about to verify our hero's prediction. [Illustration: BROCK'S MIDNIGHT GALLOP] CHAPTER XXV. THE MIDNIGHT GALLOP. Well into the half-light of morning, long after the last of his staff, Evans, Glegg and Macdonell, had departed, Brock sat alone at his headquarters at Fort George, writing rapidly. On the oak mantel, an antique clock chimed the passing of the historic hours, with deep, musical strokes. Was it presentiment--a clearer understanding that comes to men of active brain and acute perception, during solitary vigil in the silence of night, when, with heart and soul stripped, they stand on the threshold of the great divide--that whispered to this "knight of the sword" his doom? Was it this clearer comprehension that caused our hero to bow his head as a faint message from an unseen messenger reached him? With a sigh of resignation he arose from the unfinished manuscript and passed on to his bedroom.