Calling "_Qui vive_?" down
the cliff, he was answered in French, and, suspecting nothing amiss, he
proceeded on his rounds. Meanwhile the British had not waited to ascend two
abreast, but were scrambling up as best they could. Seizing hold of bushes,
roots, and projections of rock, they rapidly scaled the steep sides of the
cliff, and were soon within a few yards of the top. About a hundred of them
made the ascent at a point a few yards further east than the ravine, and
directly above their heads was a sentry-post with five or six French
soldiers, who, hearing the noise, began to peer down the side of the cliff.
Darkness prevented their seeing much, but the roots and bushes seemed all
alive, and firing a volley down at random, they took to their heels and
fled. The British vigorously pushed their way up, and were soon on level
ground. Long before daylight 4,828 British troops stood upon the Heights of
Abraham, commanding the city from the West. One solitary cannon had been
toilsomely dragged up the ravine. It was destined to do good service
against the French troops, and to carry a message of death to their
commander, ere many hours had passed.
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