He had to cross and recross three times before he landed his little party on the opposite side.
The night was squally. The wind blew in fearful gusts, and often the frail boats were in danger of being wrecked.
Allen cheered his men and promised them a glorious victory.
It was sunrise before all had crossed, and then the little party awaited the signal from Maj. Brown.
An hour passed and no signal was heard.
Half an hour more, and then Allen knew that Brown had not crossed.
His position was critical.
He would have retreated had it been possible, but he would be seen by the enemy, and a fire opened on the canoes would speedily sink them.
"Men, we are lost. Brown has failed to cross the river. If we could retreat we would, but that would mean death without glory. We must stand our ground and die with glory. Our country must never say we were cowards."
There was a suppressed cheer, and Allen knew that his few men were ready to make a determined stand.