"But where are the militia now? That's what I want to know."
"And that's what I'm trying to tell you. This is too hot to be standing out here in the road. Let's go into the shade. I've got time enough, and it may be a bit safer there, too."
The lieutenant led his horse a short distance into the woods, and, slipping the bridle-rein over his head, he permitted him to graze, while he himself resumed his story.
"At four o'clock the next morning,—that was Saturday, the 20th,—Clinton took up the line of march, but he only went seven miles, as far as Mount Holly, and there he halted till Monday. On Sunday, Knyphausen joined him, having marched by the way of Moorestown. The next morning they all marched on to Black Horse and halted again, but at five o'clock Tuesday morning they were up and at it once more. They divided their forces there a bit, Leslie going by the way of Bordentown, Clinton keeping on along the road to Crosswicks, while Grant and the Dutch butchers brought up the rear and served as a kind of guard for the baggage-train. All this was only yesterday, the 23d, you see."
"But where are the militia now?" protested Tom. "They are the ones I want to join, not the British. You keep telling me about them. What I want is the other side."
"Listen, then, and you shall hear. Yesterday General Dickinson, with the Jersey militia, was right there in Bordentown."
"What! when the British came up?"
"Yes, when the British came up, that is, when Leslie's division did. Not all of the militia were there, though. A good many had been withdrawn and posted where they could do the most good. There weren't very many left in Bordentown, but when they found out that Leslie was almost upon them, they made up their minds in very short order that the climate there was not the best in the world, so they cleared out and left. But before they went they left a few slight tokens of their regard. They pulled up the planks of the bridge there over Crosswicks Creek, and raised the draw so that Leslie had to find another crossing-place. Before they did that they tried to fix up the bridge, but they were fired upon, and I understand that four were killed and quite a large number were wounded.
"Clinton, too, wasn't finding his road all covered over with roses either. About five hundred of our men met him as he came up nearer to Crosswicks, and they thought they were ready, but they weren't anything of the kind. They had cut down a lot of trees and stretched them across the road, but that didn't stop the British. They came on just as if they didn't mind marching over such little things as trees, and there was a little skirmish there, and two or three of the redcoats were killed. One of their officers was shot and they took him up to a house near by, and left him there. Of course the Americans couldn't stand there long, but they didn't run very far.
"Well, the British divisions joined then and started on again. They came to another bridge and our men had it all fixed so that they could just let it fall by one or two strokes of an axe. They had one or two little cannons there, too."