levelled with the ground. This delighted the Indians more
than anything else, for they rightly feared that any
British advance in this direction would be sure to end
in their being driven out of their own country. By August
21, ten days from the time the first shot was fired,
Montcalm was leading his victorious army back to Montreal.

The news spread like wildfire. No such sudden, complete,
and surprising victory had ever before been won in the
West. The name and fame of Montcalm ran along the war-paths
of the endless forest and passed from mouth to mouth over
ten thousand leagues of inland waters. In one short summer
the magic of that single word, Montcalm, became as great
in America as it had been for centuries in France. The
whole face of the war was changed. At the beginning of
the year the British had thought of nothing but attack.
Then, when Montcalm had shown them so bold a front at
Ticonderoga, they had paused to make sure. Now, after
Oswego, they thought of nothing but defence.

People could hardly believe that one and the same man
had in July checked the threatened British invasion at
Lake Champlain and in August had taken the stronghold of
British power on Lake Ontario. Every step of the way had
to be covered by force of the men's own legs and arms,
marching, paddling, hauling, carrying. In short, Montcalm
had moved a whole army, siege train and all, as fast
through the wilderness without horses as another army
would have been moved over good roads in Europe with
them. The wonder grew when the numbers became known. With