“I did,” nodded the boy, “and I rode after you to say that if the friend is General Lee you will find him somewhere on the left, as I saw him——”
He had just gotten this far when Hawkins drew a pistol and lifted it. But just then a sheeted volley leaped from the orchard and he sank to the ground. And as he did so, Ben Cooper’s horse reared and plunged; the lad fell from the saddle and lay like one dead, while over him swept the charging division of Monckton with leveled bayonets to dislodge the command of General Wayne.
It was well toward noon next day when Ben Cooper was able to get upon his feet; and then, surrounded by his anxious friends, he made his way to the scene of yesterday’s mishap.
“Wayne must have been waiting for the British,” said Ezra. “And as they charged just as you got in line, you had to take your chance. It’s lucky you weren’t killed.”
Ben touched the bandage around his head and smiled.
“Did Wayne drive them back?” he asked.
“He did. And before much else could be done, darkness came on. We were all under arms at daybreak; but the enemy had gone—ran away in the night.”
“Ran away!” Ben smiled once more. “From now on he’ll be used to that. With the armies and fleets of France to aid him, General Washington will give him plenty of practice.”
“What’s that?” asked the Porcupine, his eyes upon a small group beside a gun.