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at the head of the Louisbourg grenadiers, and as he ran with sword extended, a shot broke his wrist. A moment, and without stopping his handkerchief was drawn from his breast and wrapped round the wound. Forward again a few steps another bullet struck him, then a third, this time near the heart. His tall, slim figure reeled, and he would have fallen had not two or three men rushed to his aid.

"Support me—support me," he gasped, "lest my brave fellows see me fall."

But the effort was only momentary. One and another hastily departed to look for a surgeon, but a little group in painful silence surrounded the form of their beloved leader, one supporting his head, while another held his fast-crimsoning handkerchief against his breast. All leaned forward to catch any sound that should fall from his lips, and each face expressed the grief that showed how little hope remained. The combatants were already a considerable distance off, and as an outburst of cheers was borne to their ears, one or two of the group excitedly sprang to their feet, exclaiming:

"They run ! they run!"

With a start the closed eyes reopened, and like one roused from sleep the dying man muttered :

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