With them, too, were the swart Canadians fighting for their homes, their flag and, as they believed then, for their religion, animated, too, by confidence in their courage, and belief in the skill of their leaders who had so seldom failed.
Behind the French and the Canadians were the Indians who had been drawn so freely to Montcalm's banner by his success, thinking anew of slaughter and untold spoil, such as they had known at William Henry and such as they might have had at Ticonderoga.

The gigantic Tandakora, painted hideously, led them, and in all that motley array there was no soul more eager than his for the battle.
On that eventful morning, which the vast numbers of later wars cannot dim, the councils of France were divided.

Vaudreuil, fearing an attack on the Beauport shore, did not give the valiant Montcalm all the help that he could spare, nor did De Ramesay, commanding the garrison of Quebec, send the artillery that the Marquis asked.
But Montcalm was resolute.

His soul was full of fire.

He looked at the ranks of Wolfe's army drawn up before him on the Plains of Abraham, and he did not hesitate to attack.