All round the far side of the clearing the blue rangers
were running, stooping, slinking forward, and increasing
in numbers every second. In a few minutes not a stump
near the edge of the bush but had a muzzle pointing out
from beside it. Soon not one but four great, solid masses
of redcoats were showing through the trees, less than a
quarter of a mile away. Presently they all formed up
correctly, and stood quite still for an anxious minute
or two. Then, as if each red column was a single being,
with heart and nerves of its own, the whole four stirred
with that short, tense quiver which runs through every
mass of men when they prepare to meet death face to face.
Behind the loopholed wall there was a murmur from three
thousand lips--'Here they come!'--and the answering quiver
ran through the zigzag, white ranks of the French,
Montcalm's officers immediately repeated his last caution:
'Steady, boys. Don't fire till the red-coats reach the
stakes and you get the word!'
At the edge of the trees the British officers were also
reminding their men about the orders. 'Remember: no firing
at all; nothing but the bayonet; and follow the officers
in!' QUICK-MARCH! and the four dense columns came out of
the wood, drew clear of it altogether, and advanced with
steady tramp, their muskets at the shoulder and their
bayonets gleaming with a deadly sheen under the fierce,
hot, noonday sun.
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