The general marched his army down the whole length of the corridor without meeting any one, and then they stormed the stairs at the end of the hallway. Up on the next floor they marched again, and not a soul was there to watch or applaud, although the uniformed army marched as well as a squad of bellboys—in fact, they resembled them closely.
"Now, men! Howe and his men are climbing up the ridge and we must fight on the Heights or be captured!" warned the general, waving his cane at the next flight of stairs.
Up this flight swarmed the five Continentals, and at the top they turned to shoot down any English that dared to follow; but no one was to be seen.
The general held a council of war with his army. What was there to do in this terrible extremity—the East River on one hand, the different regiments of the British on two sides, and Howe, with his main army, back of them?
"There's only one thing left for us—to cross the river in the fog and gain New York again," declared George.
"How can we cross, when there is nothing to cross?" asked Anne, with great lack of imagination.
"Oh, if our creek were only here, wouldn't it be a lark!" sighed Martha.
"Why, this hallway is our river, can't you see? The fog is so thick one can hardly tell which is land and which is water, but we can cross it all right, if you only follow me!" cried Washington courageously.
Down the whole length of the corridor he tore, eagerly followed by his four men, and reaching the stairway at the end he rushed up to the next floor.
This happened to be the top floor, and the roof, which was used in summer as a garden dining-room, and was now deserted, except for a few tubs of greens and some odd chairs standing about, was at the top of the next flight.