In vain St. Leger and Sir John Johnson rushed to and fro, trying to arrest the causeless rout. The tumult was too great for their voices to be heard. The Indians, from the very first, commenced a retreat en masse, as if by previous concert; then one regiment of rangers gave way and scattered through the woods, despite the cries of their officers, going to the rear at a run, shouting, “The rebels are coming!”
In less than ten minutes from the first blast of the horn, the two English leaders were left almost alone, and when the glare of torches in the distance, with the sight of armed men on horseback, showed them that an enemy was indeed approaching, they found that they had not sufficient following to resist a squadron of dragoons. Utterly amazed and demoralized, the two Englishmen were fain to follow the example of their followers, and hastily mounting their horses, galloped away to join the rout.
Meanwhile the trampling came nearer and nearer, and soon, out of the woods rode Adrian Schuyler, at the center of a long, scattered skirmish line of American Rangers, in the white frocks of Morgan’s Rifles, every man bearing a torch of pitch pine.
They advanced warily, but boldly, only to find the enemy’s camp deserted, the idle artillery silent in the batteries, the ground strewed with forsaken weapons and stores.
Adrian rode up to the bastion on whose summit stood the amazed garrison, and waved his torch in salute, crying:
“Gentlemen, you are saved. We are the advance of the relief column under General Arnold. Burgoyne has lost all his cavalry at Bennington, and lies at Stillwater, surrounded by our men. Hurrah for Independence!”
The cheer was given with a will.
CHAPTER XV.
THE EXPEDITION.
Two months have passed away, and the scarlet and gold of the fall is on all the vast forest that borders the Mohawk river.