"A true military eye," observed one old man, leaning over his neighbor's shoulder. "It is a young David come to lead us against the Philistines."
Suddenly William caught his breath. What was he doing? This was nice work for an officer in the service of the King. "How far off is this brick house you speak of?" he asked, hoping that even now he might escape the consequences of his impetuosity.
"Maybe a mile or so," was the response from the old man.
"Had we better not divide our forces, as you suggest, and prepare for an attack?" said Ralston.
"Yes, I have a thirsty sword." The man tapped an old Scotch claymore that hung by his side.
"Well said, McPherson," put in another, and William followed them as they went out through the barn door.
"Draw up in line, comrades, the older men to the top of the hill, and the younger take position at the edge of the swamp," Ralston spoke again.
It seemed impossible that such a mob could do anything against an organized resistance, but a surge of mingled admiration and pride swept over William. A great lump came into his throat. He glanced at the eager boys and the bent forms of the old men. Ye gods! These were his countrymen! Some one, he did not know who, shouted, "Forward!" and he found himself at the head of a shuffling, swaying company that straggled out across the road. He was leading as they silently went through the meadow and came to the crest of a hill where the stubble of the corn-stalks just showed above the snow. Below him he saw a large brick house, and about it a strong stone wall. Even from this distance he could make out the green uniforms of the Hessians and a few red coats dotted amongst them. William halted an instant.
The weak point of the defence he observed at once. From behind the rocks on the hill-side the interior of the yard could be commanded. There were few windows in the house facing the westward, and a large hay-cock stretched up almost to the second story. He could not help it! The tales he had heard made him hate the mercenary green coats that had brought disgrace upon warfare, if such could be. He was in command. He could not back out, but hesitated to give the word. Another mind, however, had seen the same opportunity that had struck William so forcibly. As the men stopped on the hill-side there was a rattling volley below them. A body of ragged men in homespun much like those grouped about him appeared on the edge of the alders in the swamp. Others swarmed out from the woods. The party from the southward had decided to wait no longer for assistance from the forces under Ralston. Captain Littel, of New Jersey, was in command of this attack. So well feared and hated had he been that there was a reward upon his head. William was surprised at the intrepid charge that these farmer soldiers made upon the wall. A handful ran out across the meadow, and despite the fact that three fell before they had gone one hundred yards, they reached the side of the house. One of the men was carrying a flaming torch. In an instant the hay-cock roared up in flames, and now the men about him could stand it no longer, but with a shout they dashed down the hill-side with no more order than a herd of charging cattle. Spurts of smoke sprang from the windows of the farm-house. The Waldeckers and the British were driven from behind the wall, but the house had now caught fire from the burning hay. The Americans swarmed about it. A man with an axe burst the door. There were some more shots, but soon the white flag was extended from one of the windows. This recalled William to his senses, and then he noticed that he was not alone. Ralston stood beside him.
"Hasten!" he said. "They have surrendered; but so great is their rage that I am afraid if we do not interfere our people will take no prisoners. Their blood is hot, they seek revenge!"