For some time they talked of camp matters, the shortness of food, and
want of provisions.
"It is bad here," one said presently; "it will be worse when we move
forward. Schuyler will be here tomorrow with the rest of the army,
and we are to move down to Isle-aux-Noix, at the end of the lake, and
I suppose we shall land at once and march against St. John's. There
are only a couple of hundred Britishers there, and we shall make
short work of them."
"The sooner the better, I say," another speaker remarked. "I am ready
enough to fight, but I hate all this waiting about. I want to get
back to my farm again."
"You are in a hurry, you are," the other said. "You don't suppose we
are going to take Canada in a week's time, do you. Even if the
Canadians join us, and by what I hear that aint so sartin after all,
we shall have to march down to Quebec, and that's no child's play. I
know the country there. It is now September 4. Another month and the
winter will be upon us, and a Canadian winter is no joke, I can tell
you."
"The more reason for not wasting any more time," the other one
grumbled. "If Montgomery had his way we should go at them quickly
enough, but Schuyler is always delaying. He has kept us waiting now
since the 17th of last month. We might have been halfway to Quebec by
this time."
"Yes," the other said, "if the Britishers had run away as we came;
but we have got St. John's and Fort Chamblee to deal with, and they
may hold out some time.
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