attle on Breed's hill, there would never have been
a red-coated soldier show his head above our line of works and lived to
tell of it.

It seemed to me as if all the space between the fortification and the
foot of the hill was covered with lobster backs swarming upon us, and I
know that if perchance they were twenty musket-charges left among us, it
was what might be called, in such desperate straights, rare good
fortune.

Then the enemy clambered up over the parapet, while we met them with a
volley of stones, throwing the missiles with as good aim as we had
discharged our muskets, and while one might have counted thirty, held
them in check.

I have often wondered since, if we had had at our hand as many stones as
could have been used, what would have been the result? But even that
poor method of warfare was denied us, for the supply we had gathered was
speedily expended, and, what was worse, the fact that we had ceased to
shoot bullets showed the Britishers plainly the plight into which we had
fallen.

The first officer who appeared above the parapet was that same Major
Pitcairn who had led the troops at Lexington when our people were
slaughtered there, and although I was no longer assailed by the fever of
battle, and could not well look upon the death of a human as being a
reason for rejoicing, yet I shouted aloud in glee when a negro soldier
among us shot that dastard through the head.

My cry of triumph was speedily swallowed up by the shouts of the lobster
backs as they leaped into the redoubt from all sides, coming at us
fearlessly with their bayonets, knowing full well we could not make
reply save with the butts of our muskets, and these we used, so
desperate had our people become, until a score of the king's men had
fallen before such crude weapons.

Again and again as we thus fought hand to hand, we Americans retreating
backwards step by step, striving to keep the red-coated enemy from
spitting us like larks on a toasting fork, I saw the muskets of our
people shattered, the butt breaking from the barrel with the force of a
blow upon the head of an enemy.

"Are we ordered to retreat?" I shouted wildly in Hiram's ear as we
fought side by side, Archie and Silas just behind us.

"Some one has said that Colonel Prescott gave the order; but whether he
did or not there is no longer any chance to make resistance," Hiram
replied as he crushed the head of a Britisher much the same as you
would shatter an egg. "