"At what time do you think they will arrive here?" the colonel asked, when Jake had made his report. "Dey be pretty close by dark, for sure," Jake replied.
"But I don't think, sir," Peter added, "they'll attack before morning. They wouldn't be likely to try it in the dark, not knowing the nature of the place."
The commander was of the same opinion, but to prevent the possibility of surprise he placed pickets at some distance round the fort, the scouts being, of course, of the party.
The night passed quietly, but at seven in the morning Peter, Harold, and Jake, who were at some distance in advance of the others, saw the enemy approaching. They fired their pieces and fell back upon the outposts. Their position was rather to the right of the line of defense. The pickets were about to fall back when 70 men, being two companies of the Seventy-first under Captain Campbell, were sent out to feel the enemy.
"We're going to have a skirmish," Peter said. "I know these Highlanders. Instead of jest firing a bit and then falling back, they'll be sticking here and fighting as if they thought they could lick the hull army of the Yankees."
It was as Peter predicted. The Highlanders took post behind a hedge and maintained a desperate resistance to the advance of the enemy. Harold and his comrades for some time fought with them.
"It's time for us to be out of this," Peter said presently. "Let's jest get back to the fort."
"We cannot fall back till they do, Peter."
"I don't see that," Peter said. "We're scouts, and I don't see no advantage in our chucking away our lives because these hot-headed Highlanders choose to do so. Peter Lambton's ready to do a fair share of fighting, but when he's sure that fighting aint no good, then he goes."
And suiting the action to the word, Peter rose from his recumbent position and began to make his way back to the camp, taking advantage of every bit of cover.