“Whoever he is, he’d better keep down,” said Jud.
“I can’t be sure at this distance,” replied the saddle-maker, “but from the size and appearance of him I’d say he was Colonel Prescott.”
Afterward the boys learned that the man was Colonel Prescott and that his apparent disregard for the fire of the British was for the purpose of heartening the men within the fort.
About mid-afternoon all the fire from the men-of-war and the British batteries seemed to concentrate on the little fort.
“There they go!” cried Short. “The attack’s begun.”
The regulars were advancing in two divisions; one division moved straight up the hill toward the fort; the other moved toward the fortifications beyond the hill—which could not be seen from the roof. Burdened with heavy equipment, and with the hot sun blazing down on their heads, the British walked slowly over the uneven ground. When they had gone some distance they opened fire and continued to fire as they advanced. A few scattering shots from the hill answered them.
“Our men are withholding their fire till it’ll count,” said Short. “A wise thing to do.”
“Well, I wish they’d hurry and fire,” said Jud. “Just see how close the Redcoats are to the fort!”
The stretch of green and brown field between the redoubt and the front line of advancing regulars was growing smaller and smaller. From beyond the hill came a rattling roar of muskets and of field-pieces. Then came a heavy volley from the fort.
“Look! Look!” cried Short and in his excitement almost let go his hold.