On ran the sentry; on, our men.—
Their mountains gave no game,
Nor guide so quick to apprehend
The grounds on which they came.
At last, uploom’d in dusky light,
And choking all the way,
A man who poised his bayonet[17]
To hold them all at bay.
“Take heed!” he call’d. “We take it, man,”
Hiss’d Allen, where he sped;