lt upright in the stirrups, I lifted my smoking rifle: "Rangers!
Charge!"

Beneath my plunging horse a soldier in green went down screaming; an
Indian darted past, falling to death under a dozen clubbed rifles; then
a yelling mass of green-coated soldiers, forced and crushed back into
the hedge, turned at bay; and into this writhing throng leaped my
riflemen, hatchets flashing.

"Hold that hedge, Captain Renault!" came a calm voice near me, and I
saw Colonel Willett at my elbow, struggling with his frantic horse.

A mounted officer near him cried: "The rest of the militia on the right
are wavering, Colonel!"

"Then stop them, Captain Zielie!" said Willett, dragging his horse to a
stand. His voice was lost in the swelling roar of the fusillade where
my Rangers were holding the hedge. On the extreme right, through an
open field, I saw the militia scattering, darting about wildly. There
came a flash, a roar, and the scene was blotted out in a huge fountain
of flame and smoke.

"They've blown up the ammunition-wagon! Butler's men have taken our
cannon!" yelled a soldier, swinging his arms frantically. "Oh, my God!
the militia are running from the field!"

It was true. One of those dreadful and unaccountable panics had seized
the militia. Nothing could stop them. I saw Colonel Willett spur
forward, sword flashing; officers rode into the retreating lines,
begging and imploring them to stand. The pressure on my riflemen was
enormous, and I ordered them to fall back by squads in circles to the
fringe of woods. They obeyed very coolly and in perfect order, retiring
step by step, shot by shot.

Massachusetts infantry were holding the same woods; a few Tryon militia
rallied to us, and Colonel Gray took command. "For God's sake, Renault,
go and help Willett stop the militia!" he begged. "I'll hold this
corner till you can bring us aid!"

I peered about me through the smoke, gathered bridle, wheeled through
the bushes into the open field, and hurled my horse forward along the
line of retreat.

Never had I believed brave men could show such terror. Nobody heeded
me, nobody listened. At my voice they only ran the faster, I galloping
alongside, beseeching them, and looking for Willett.

Straight into the streets of Johnstown fled the militia, crowding the
town in mad and shameless panic, carrying with them their mounted
officers, as a torrent hurls chips into a whirlpool.

"Halt! In Heaven's name, what is the matter? Why,