“What, sir,” demanded he, “do you dare bring us a false report at such a time?”
“I’m telling the truth!” gasped the man, his hands tossing in protest. “See, there; he’ll tell you the same.”
As he spoke he pointed to a small man in an American uniform, who held a fife in his hand, and had at that moment dashed breathlessly up.
“All’s lost,” he said. “We’ve been driven back.”
A swift command, and the fifer was in the custody of Nat Brewster and Ezra Prentiss.
“Don’t let him speak to any one,” was the order. “He might spread a panic among the men.”
Washington mounted, and the officers spurred forward. In a little while a scattering of running men were met upon the road; then small bodies. Finally complete commands were encountered. Some officers were now ordered forward to find out the meaning of the thing; dashing past Freehold Meeting House, Washington came upon Grayson’s and Patton’s regiments in full retreat and badly disordered. Then came other commands.
“Sir,” demanded Washington of Colonel Shreve, who rode at the head of his own regiment, “is the entire advance party falling back?”
Colonel Shreve smiled significantly.
“General, I believe it is. And under the orders of General Lee.”