nded to the
creek, in order to find cover from the bushes on its bank, until they
reached the piece of wood. The veteran, telling his command to preserve
its formation, wheeled it to the right, and ordered perfect silence.
Leaving his rifle at his post, he slipped from tree to tree like a cat,
having thrown off his shoes for the purpose. When he returned, the
enemy, moving almost as silently, had entered the bush, but,
anticipating no sentry at that point, had sought no cover. "Shtiddy, now
min," whispered the sarjint-major; "take good aim, Front Rank, Riddy!"
Five guns rolled out a challenge to the invaders, and, before they had
time to seek cover, came, "Rare Rank, Riddy," and his own rifle led the
other four weapons of the second line. "Are yeez loaded, front an'
rare?" asked the ancient warrior; and, satisfied that all were, he put
himself in the front and ordered a charge to outflank the enemy and
hinder them getting away among the bushes. All perceived his intentions,
except, perhaps, the two Pilgrims and Toner, who, however, were borne
along by the rest. Dashing through the creek, part of the force volleyed
the miscreants from there, and drove them into the open, while the
remaining part kept them from seeking refuge in the bush. The Squire's
men had the shelter of the brook alders and willows, now, and, led by
Mr. Terry, in single file, at a rate almost as rapid as that of Rawdon's
retreat, faced now and again to the left to fire, and loaded as they
ran. At last the shelter ceased, and all were in the open, both pursued
and pursuers. "Kape it up," cried the indomitable veteran; "don't give
the murtherin' blagyards a minit's resht!" Up, up the hill, they chased
the said blackguards, until they reached the road. Within the skirting
rail fences the Squire kept his men, faint but pursuing, and firing an
occasional shot to lend the speed of terror to the miscreants' heels. In
an hour from the beginning of the pursuit, the hunted Rawdonites were at
the wild lands on the lakes, and prepared to enter the forest and make a
stand or hide; when Carruthers cried: "Down flat on your faces every
man," and five reports from in front rang through the air. The Richards
were on guard, but either Perrowne had forgotten to tell them about
blank cartridge, or they did not think proper to obey the order. "Come
on a bit farther, lads, till we find where these villains turn in,"
cried the Squire. In another minute the victors combined wi