in protecting and transporting our provisions, being
already so much weakened by the loss in this day of men
and horses.' Sending a messenger back with this dispatch,
he set himself to plan for the morrow.

At daybreak from the surrounding wood the terrifying
war-cries of the Indians fell on the ears of the troops.
Slowly the shrill yells came nearer; the Indians were
endeavouring to strike terror into the hearts of their
foes before renewing the fight, knowing that troops in
dread of death are already half beaten. When within five
hundred yards of the centre of the camp the Indians began
firing. The troops replied with great steadiness. This
continued until ten in the morning. The wounded within
the barricade lay listening to the sounds of battle, ever
increasing in volume, and the fate of Braddock's men rose
before them. It seemed certain that their sufferings must
end in death--and what a death! The pack-horses, tethered
at a little distance from the barricade, offered an easy
target, against which the Indians soon directed their
fire, and the piteous cries of the wounded animals added
to the tumult of the battle. Some of the horses, maddened
by wounds, broke their fastenings and galloped into the
forest. But the kilted Highlanders and the red-coated
Royal Americans gallantly fought on. Their ranks were
being thinned; the fatiguing work of the previous day
was telling on them; their throats were parched and their
tongues swollen for want of water. Bouquet surveyed the
field. He saw his men weakening under the terrible strain,
and realized that something must be done promptly. The