one lost composure. Each man knew they could not retreat or advance—fight they must and fight they surely did.
Night came, and under cover of the darkness the wearied soldiers cared for the wounded. Placed in the cleared center of the circle, a rude wall of sacks of flour was built around them. Here, enduring agonies of thirst, for not a drop of water could be obtained, they lay listening to the fiendish yells of the enemy—a poor cure for wounds and burning thirst.
When the necessary arrangements for the night had been completed and provision made against a night attack, Bouquet, doubtful of surviving the morrow's battle, wrote to Sir Jeffrey Amherst a brief and concise account of the day's fight. His report ends with these words:
" . . As, in case of another engagement, I fear insurmountable difficulties in protecting and transporting our provisions, being already so much weakened by the losses of this day, in men and horses, besides the additional necessity of carrying the wounded, whose situation is truly deplorable."
