very thought of a man being brought out in the stillness
of the night to be shot like a dog was horrible in the
extreme. Still there were no lack of interceders, although
little hope was now entertained of Major Boulton being
spared. People retired to their homes that evening with
mingled feelings of hope and Uncertainty, mixed with
horror at the deed about to be committed. And how was
the prisoner during all this time? Calm and resigned to
his fate. After writing a few lines to his friends in
Canada, he called for a basin of water and a towel with
which to wash his face and hands, and a glass of wine to
prevent him, if possible, from shivering when passing
into the cold night air, in case people might attribute
it to fear. He spoke quietly and calmly of the fate before
him, and acted altogether as a soldier should do in the
face of death. In the meantime the French councillors
were sitting in deliberation on Boulton's sentence, the
result being that his life was spared. This was communicated
at once to the prisoner who received the information as
calmly as he had done the sentence of death."]

"I think I do Monsieur," and there was a knowing twinkle
in the eye of the wily scoundrel.

"Well, this Scott has an unbridled tongue, and is pretty
certain to use it. If he does not, a little judicious
goading will soon set him in his most abusive mood. If
possible, it would be well for one of the guards to
provoke him to commit an assault. Could you rely upon
any one of your men for such a bit of business?"