“There comes a detachment of ’em now!” exclaimed 211 Rodney, the following morning. He and Zeb were doing picket duty. The latter gave the call, and several Rangers ran up. A half mile down the road the Hessians came marching on in close order till they arrived at some farm buildings when they were seen to break ranks.
“Let ’em have it!” cried Zeb, bringing his long rifle to his shoulder. Then, loading as he ran, he called, “Come on, boys, let’s get to closer range.”
Other Rangers, hearing the firing, came running after them. In doing this they not only obeyed orders, but most of them gratified their own desire to get into a skirmish with the enemy at every opportunity.
Soon the bullets were singing anything but a cheerful song about the ears of the Hessians, who began to reform their ranks and returned the fire. After several of them had fallen in their tracks, the remainder retreated, bearing off their dead and wounded, pursued by the Rangers clear to the enemy’s lines, when they, too, were compelled by overwhelming numbers to retreat.
As they passed the farm on the way back, “Do-as-much Bunster,” a Pennsylvania Dutchman, exclaimed, “Dey vas not alretty till Christmas for roast pig to vait, I tink.”
“Reckon your thinker is workin’ this mornin’,” was Zeb’s reply as he turned aside to look over into a pen beside the road where a fine litter of white pigs lay cuddled about the old sow.
“You fellers hev earned one o’ them beauties,” said 212 the farmer, coming out of his barn and proceeding to slaughter one of the innocents without evident compunction.
“Do as much for you zumtime,” said Bunster, whereat all laughed. That was what the Dutchman always said when any one did him a favour. He was as good as his word, too, which not only gave him his nickname but made him one of the most popular men in his company.
He was both fat and jolly, as Dutchmen should be, but not always are. His blue eyes twinkled with good humour and shrewdness, and his eagerness showed that he was fond of roast pig.
How good it tasted though cooked, as it had to be, under unfavourable conditions over a camp-fire, and without proper utensils. There was, however, a look of contentment on the faces of those who partook of the feast that afternoon, and sat around on the warm ground licking their fingers.