Howe is said to have thought the Burgoyne plan unwise, for he knew something about war, though frequently too indolent to put his knowledge into practice. This beautiful month of June he had his army down in New Jersey, watching for a chance to outwit Washington and seize Philadelphia.
After the first failure, he abandoned New Brunswick and marched his troops back to New York. Here was an opportunity for Morgan’s Rangers. They followed Howe’s army like a swarm of angry hornets. When too annoying, the British would turn and drive them back, but, as soon as the march was resumed, 218 they would return and again sting the rear of the column into desperation.
When the Rangers first came in contact with the retreating British the latter were crossing a bridge. Here was a fine opportunity for Morgan’s men, and they used it to the fullest extent. Their bullets laid many a poor Hessian in the dust, for the aim of the riflemen was quick and accurate, whereas that of the British was mechanical.
“Ah! Another bee has stung that arm. The redcoats intend to get it, I believe,” suddenly cried Rodney.
“Does yer arm feel numb?” asked Zeb.
“No, I guess it’s just a scratch. Anyhow I’m going to use it while I may.”
No, our two comrades lost no time examining trifling wounds, while British bullets whistled about their ears. On the contrary, they were loading and firing as rapidly as possible, and the perspiration was streaming down their powder-blackened faces, for the day was hot.
“They are going to support the column; look out for a volley. Git down here, lie low,” and, suiting action to word, Zeb threw himself on the grass.
A body of Hessians had wheeled about and posted themselves behind some temporary breastworks, which had been thrown up that morning. “Up and at ’em,” was the word, and the Rangers ran forward and threw themselves on the ground so that most of the volley from the enemy passed over their heads.