“Still, this letter confirms our report, and is from a source that cannot be doubted,” Philip said cheerily. “General Gates need no longer fear a foe in his rear.”
“An’ will have no excuse for not advancing,” Dan Cushing declared.
The lads finished their journey without other incident, and on the evening of October sixth arrived at Bemis Heights. In a few minutes later the commander-in-chief had heard their report and received the letter from Sir Henry Clinton. The latter interested him greatly, and he insisted on hearing a full account of how it came into his scout’s hands.
“Your father was right, lieutenant,” he said graciously when the story had been told. “I could not have sent one better fitted for the mission than yourself. With no enemy to attack us in our rear, we can give our undivided attention to those in front. I will soon issue an order for an attack.”
But on the following morning such a step was unnecessary. At an early hour, prompted by a threatened famine, General Burgoyne directed that a foraging force, numbering fifteen hundred, break through the western line of skirmishers and scour the surrounding country in search of food. This movement was immediately detected by the Continentals, and, mistaking it for the beginning of a general attack on the part of the red-coats, they prepared for battle.
Leaving the breastworks they dashed down the hill upon the enemy’s front. It was an attack which the British could not withstand, and they gave way before it. Rallying, however, a little later, they drove the assailants back.
To and fro they struggled, sometimes the British, sometimes the patriots having the best of the contest. So evenly balanced were the contending forces that the same cannon changed hands five times. Finally the patriots succeeded in holding the piece, and their colonel leaping upon it cried:
“I now dedicate this to the American cause.” Then he ordered it wheeled around, and, having been loaded with British ammunition, it was discharged again and again into the ranks of its former owners, becoming an important factor in driving them from the field.
At the same time an extraordinary flank movement was being executed. General Fraser, with the finest corps of the English army, fell upon the left of the Continentals. Colonel Morgan’s riflemen drove the attacking party back, and they in their turn charged impetuously upon the British right. During the entire day there was no hotter fighting than that which centered at this point.
Upon the heights stood an interested spectator. It was Colonel Arnold, who, though deprived of his command, had not yet left the encampment. As he watched the progress of the battle he could no longer restrain himself. Mounting his horse, he rode at breakneck speed toward the left field. General Gates immediately ordered one of his staff officers to follow and recall the daring officer. But the aide could not overtake him. Into the thickest of the fight, and on to the head of his regiment, the impetuous colonel rode. His men recognized and received him with cheers; then, rallying, they followed him in a charge before which the red-coats wavered like grain before a tempest.