eir last rounds into the foe. Then they clubbed
their muskets, dashed stones into the faces of the foe, fighting hand to
hand, as the British poured over the earthworks in a stream. Seeing his
forlorn position, Prescott ordered a retreat, and his men sullenly
obeyed, fighting to the last, stubbornly contesting every foot.

Down below, on the slope near the Neck, was the infuriated Putnam, doing
his utmost to urge forward the belated reenforcements. When he saw the
onpouring mass of men in retreat he was wild with rage. "Halt, you
infernal cowards!" he yelled. "Halt here and make a stand. We can stop
them yet!" But he was overborne by the resistless stream, and with an
impious imprecation on his lips he dismounted, near a field-piece, "and
seemed resolved to brave the foe alone." One man only, a sergeant, took
his stand beside him, but he was soon shot down, and brave Old Put was
left without support. "The enemy's bayonets were just upon him when he
retired," probably the last unwounded warrior to retreat from Bunker
Hill!

CHAPTER XIII

HOLDING THE ENEMY AT BAY

The battle had been fought, and had resulted even better than the then
enraged Putnam himself could have anticipated, for although technically
defeated, the Provincials had achieved a real victory, the fruits of
which were to be enjoyed by generations then unborn. For they had
conquered themselves as well as the enemy, whom they had met with calm
confidence; and had they been better supplied with ammunition, that
enemy would never have seen the inside of the redoubt and the
breastworks.

British bayonets defeated them finally, as opposed to clubbed muskets
and stones cast by despairing men, whose very last thought was of
retreat. Many and many a man besides Prescott and Putnam, Stark and
Pomeroy, Knowlton and McClary, raged like wolves that day at its ending,
to find themselves compelled to accept a retreat as the alternative of
capture or death. Like lions making for their lairs in the hills,
Prescott and Putnam gave way at last before the overwhelming forces of
the enemy; and, after passing through the storm of cannon-balls still
hurtling across the Neck, they had leisure to count up their losses; for
the British were too exhausted, too much in awe of their prowess, even,
to pursue.

It was a very good showing for green troops, that which told the
respective losses of British and Americans: more than a thousand of the
former, as against less th