est trees came the line of the
British advance. The fire extended along our whole front, while far
over, to our left came the distant roar of cannon and musketry.

"They are having a hot time over there," said Dick, "but why don't
these fellows charge us?"

"They will charge us soon enough," I replied. But it seemed as if they
never would, for what promised to be an attack along our whole line
dwindled down to a mere exchange of shots. Hour after hour went by,
and yet they never advanced beyond a certain point except when a
company or so would dash forward and a sharp skirmish would break
forth for a moment or two, and then die away again. But far over to
our left the sound of the battle came rolling nearer and nearer,
telling the tale of Sullivan's men being driven in.

"I do not like that," said Dick. "They are doing all the fighting,
while we are merely exchanging courtesies with our friends six hundred
yards away. Hello! There comes news."

I looked behind us to a small hill, where Lord Stirling stood with his
staff, and saw Tench Tilghman riding up at full speed. There was a
hurried movement among the staff, and Stirling's glasses swept the
country to our left and rear. A moment later an order was given and
the aides came dashing down our lines, and then, to our disgust, came
the order to retire.

"Retreat!" cried one of the men. "Why, we haven't begun to fight
yet!"

"Steady, men," cried Captain Ramsay; "you form the rear guard and must
hold the enemy in check," for they were beginning to advance as the
regiments on each side of us withdrew. Then we began slowly to
withdraw, but there came an aide riding swiftly to Major Gist.
Pennsylvania and Delaware regiments took our place in the rear, and we
were marched rapidly to the front. The heavy woods had heretofore
prevented our seeing what was taking place, but now that we had come
out to the opening a wild scene of terror and dismay lay before us.
Gowanus Creek, deep and unfordable, with its sullen tide rising fast,
lay like a great ugly serpent across our path, while over the meadow
and far in our front the broken streams of fugitives were swarming,
flying toward the bridge at the mill, the only hope of crossing
Gowanus Creek. And as I looked, to my horror, the mill and the bridge
burst into flames, catching the routed army as it were between the
rising tide and the advancing legions of the victorious English. Then,
as we watched it, a rumour grew and sprea