shot dead the moment his head
shows over the earthwork. The wavering columns stagger and give way.

Sir Edward leaves General Lambert in command of the reserve, and,
with generals Gibbs and Keane, now leads the assault. The mud
earthwork again belches its sheets of flame, as the backwoods
riflemen fire their death-dealing volleys. Again the proud columns
give way.

"Forward, men, forward!" cries Pakenham, ordering the bugler to sound
the charge.

A rifle ball carries away the bugle before a note is sounded.

"Order up the reserve!" shouts the British commander, and leads his
men to another deadly charge.

A rifle bullet shatters his right leg, another kills his horse, and
finally a third, fired by a negro, instantly {196} kills him. Gibbs
and Keane are both severely wounded. The officers in the brilliant
uniforms are easy targets for the sharpshooters.

It is what Bunker Hill might have been if the patriots had had
stronger breastworks and plenty of ammunition.

The eight hundred Highlanders, with pale faces but firm step, advance
to the ditch, and, too proud to run, stand the fire until few more
than a hundred are left. These slowly retire with their faces still
toward the Americans.

The battle lasted only twenty-five minutes. During this time the
American flag was kept flying near the middle of the line. A military
band roused the troops. Just after the fight, Jackson and his staff
in full uniform rode slowly along the lines. The wild uproar of that
motley army was echoed by thousands of spectators, who with fear and
trembling had watched the issue of the contest.

[Illustration: General Jackson riding along the Lines, after the
Battle]

In the final and decisive action on that Sunday morning, the British
had about six thousand men, while Jackson had less than three
thousand. Of the British, seven hundred were killed, fourteen hundred
wounded, and five hundred taken prisoners. The Americans had only
eight killed and fourteen wounded!

It was the most astonishing battle ever fought on this continent.
There had never been a defeat so crushing, with a loss so small.

{197} For a week or more, the British kept sullenly within their
lines. Jackson clung to his intrenchments. He was a fearless fighter,
but was unwilling to risk a battle with well-tried veterans in an
open field. He kept up, however, a continual pounding with his big
guns, and his mounted riflemen gave the redcoats no rest.

In about thre