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that point FitzGibbon, William Merritt and three other men had left us while we proceeded to our spots.
    Just before we’d reached our positions, still safely out of sight and sound of the blockhouse, the company had come to a stop. All at once those members of the regular army, those under the command of FitzGibbon, removed their grey jackets and replaced them with the scarlet uniform of the British Army, which they always carried in their packs. At first I didn’t understand why they were doing this—putting on uniforms that would draw attention to them. It was explained to me that if they had to storm the blockhouse the Americans would be more frightened to see the red of regular British soldiers and more likely to surrender without a fight. Besides, as I soon saw in the pitch black of the forest, they were not much more visible than the grey.
    When the Lieutenant left he had put me in the charge of Mr. McCann. Though my old neighbour treated me more like the young boy I used to be than the young man I’d become, I had to admit that he made me feel safe. I trusted Mr. McCann. My Pa always spoke highly of him.
    â€œHow many soldiers do you think are inside?” I asked him in a hushed tone.
    â€œCan’t be certain. It’s a large building. Could be fifty, although likely no more than two dozen,” he whispered into my ear. “But you can be certain they’ll be blue-coats, regular army and not militiamen.”
    I heard the approach of feet along the road and soon Icould make out the first faint outlines of five men. I thought it must be FitzGibbon and the rest, but in the darkness I couldn’t be completely certain.
    â€œI wish it wasn’t both FitzGibbon and Merritt out there,” Mr. McCann whispered in my ear. “I shudder to think what would happen to the whole of the Niagara region if something were to happen to those two.”
    â€œThey’ll be fine,” I whispered back. I couldn’t even imagine anything befalling FitzGibbon.
    â€œI’m sure you’re right. No two men are better for the job. But if you dance with danger often enough . . .”
    He let the sentence trail off as the men came to a stop thirty paces from the gate of the blockhouse.
    â€œHello! We are friends!” cried out a voice. It was William Merritt’s.
    â€œIdentify yourselves!” came the answer from the blockhouse.
    â€œWe are militia from the Lewiston detachment and are answering to the orders of Major Hall!”
    â€œAnd what might those orders be?” called back the voice.
    â€œI’m not party to the Major’s secrets!” Merritt answered back.
    I saw a flash of white—it looked like an envelope—held high above his head.
    â€œI have sealed orders. But I think they might have something to do with the British invasion and attack on Fort Schlosser!”
    Mr. McCann leaned close to my ear. “Brilliant. Give them a little tidbit that they can’t help but want to knowabout. And to announce a British invasion like that! No one would suspect a redcoat to be giving such news!”
    â€œCome forward and be identified!” came the answer from the blockhouse.
    Maybe this was going to work, and they’d talk their way through the gate.
    At the corner of the wall a torch was struck and the bright semicircle of light exposed three soldiers, one holding the torch and two standing off to the side holding muskets. Suddenly the torch was tossed through the air, spinning end over end to land on the ground a dozen paces in front of the gate.
    â€œCome forward into the light!” called out the voice.
    â€œYou stay right here, no matter what happens!” Mr. McCann whispered firmly.
    â€œNo matter what happens? Isn’t it working?” I questioned.
    â€œI don’t know, but I don’t like them having to come forward like that. Once they’re in the halo of the light they’ll be a target for every musket on