ery opposite Fort Brown. It
was in a position to do some material and enormous moral damage. On the
ninth it was nearly ready for bloody work, and would probably begin next
morning. That night, however, an extraordinary event took place, and
showed how far from terror-palsy were the motley troops in Plattsburg. A
sturdy Vermonter, named Captain McGlassin, got permission of Malcomb to
attempt a very Spartan sortie.

He called for fifty volunteers to go on a most hazardous enterprise. He
got one thousand at once. Then he ordered all over twenty-five and under
eighteen to retire. This reduced the number to three hundred. Then,
all married men were retired, and thus again they were halved. Next he
ordered away all who smoked--Ah, deep philosopher that he was!--and from
the remnant he selected his fifty. Among them was Rolf. Then he divulged
his plan. It was nothing less than a dash on the new-made fort to spike
those awful guns--fifty men to dash into a camp of thirteen thousand.

Again he announced, "Any who wish to withdraw now may do so." Not a man
stirred.

Twenty of those known to be expert with tools were provided with hammers
and spikes for the guns, and Rolf was proud to be one of them.

In a night of storm and blackness they crossed the Saranac; dividing in
two bodies they crawled unseen, one on each side of the battery. Three
hundred British soldiers were sleeping near, only the sentries peered
into the storm-sleet.

All was ready when McGlassin's tremendous voice was heard, "Charge
front and rear!" Yelling, pounding, making all the noise they could, the
American boys rushed forth. The British were completely surprised, the
sentries were struck down, and the rest assured that Macomb's army was
on them recoiled for a few minutes. The sharp click, click, click of the
hammers was heard. An iron spike was driven into every touch hole;
the guns were made harmless as logs and quickly wheeling, to avoid the
return attack, these bold Yankee boys leaped from the muzzled redoubt
and reached their own camp without losing one of their number.

Chapter 80. The Bloody Saranac

Sir George Prevost had had no intention of taking Plattsburg, till
Plattsburg's navy was captured. But the moral effect of McGlassin's
exploit must be offset at once. He decided to carry the city by storm--a
matter probably of three hours' work.

He apportioned a regiment to each bridge, another to each ford near the
town, another to cross th