present on the field of battle, were, therefore, almost
exactly equal, 5,000 each. Vaudreuil also forgot to order
out the field guns, the horses for which the vile and
corrupt Bigot had been using for himself. At nine Montcalm
had formed up his French and colonial regulars between
Quebec and the crest of rising ground across the Plains
beyond which lay Wolfe. Riding forward till he could see
the redcoats, he noticed how thin their line was on its
left and in its centre, and that its right, near the St
Lawrence, had apparently not formed at all. But his eye
deceived him about the British right, as the men were
lying down there, out of sight, behind a swell of ground.
He galloped back and asked if any one had further news.
Several officers declared they had heard that Wolfe was
entrenching, but that his right brigade had not yet had
time to march on to the field. There was no possible way
of finding out anything else at once. The chance seemed
favourable. Montcalm knew he had to fight or starve, as
he was completely cut off by land and water, except for
one bad, swampy road in the valley of the St Charles;
and he ordered his line to advance.

At half-past nine the French reached the crest and halted.
The two armies were now in full view of each other on
the Plains and only a quarter of a mile apart. The French
line of battle had eight small battalions, about 2,500
men, formed six deep. The colonial regulars, in three
battalions, were on the flanks. The five battalions of
French regulars were in the centre. Montcalm, wearing a
green and gold uniform, with the brilliant cross of St