White with foam he reached Hinesburg and Lieut. Van Sicklen shouted:
“The British are coming!”
Then over his shoulder:
“They have invaded Plattsburg and volunteers are wanted! On to Burlington!”
Every mouth took up the cry.
“On to Burlington, the British are coming!”
Morgan’s nostrils showed red—but he was just beginning this wonderful experience, for which he had waited so long. On, on, to serve his country!
They left the people hurrying into their houses for their muskets. Men snatched them from the high mantel-shelves and started out leaving their plows stuck in the earth. The women did not weep—they, too, set out, some doggedly, some eager; they begged extra guns and went along leaving their kitchen doors open and their pots hanging from the cranes; they had not forgotten the Indians—and that other cry: “The British are coming!”
These were living memories to many. Even the children pleaded to go along, for was not the American spirit born in them?
And on Morgan and his rider went.