ly sure that the French could not
cross the rivers or march in any direction until the beginning of the
next summer.

The French generals, therefore, put their men into the best quarters
they could get for them, and the poor, half-naked, barefooted soldiers
were glad to think that their work for that year was done.

Day by day the weather grew colder. The ground was frozen hard, and ice
began running in the rivers. After a little while the floating ice
became so thick that the rivers were choked with it. When Christmas came
the stream nearest the French was frozen over, and three days later the
ice was so hard that the surface of the river was as firm as the solid
ground.

Then came an order from General Pichegru to shoulder arms and march. In
the bitterest weather of that terrible winter the barefooted, half-clad
French soldiers left their huts, and marched against their foes.
Crossing the first river on the ice, they fell upon the surprised Dutch
and utterly routed them. About the same time they made a dash at the
strong fortified posts along the river, and captured them.

The French were now masters of the large island that lay between the two
rivers, for they are really only two branches of one river, and the land
between them is an island. But the ice in the farther stream was not yet
hard enough to bear the weight of cannon, so Pichegru had to stay where
he was for a time. Both sides now watched the weather, the French hoping
for still harder frosts, while their enemies prayed for a thaw.

The cold weather continued, and day by day the ice became firmer. On the
8th of January, 1795, Pichegru began to cross, and on the 10th his whole
army had passed the stream, while his enemies were rapidly retreating.
He pushed forward into the country, sending his columns in different
directions to press the enemy at every point. The barefooted, half-naked
French soldiers were full of spirit, and in spite of frost and snow and
rough frozen roads they marched steadily and rapidly. City after city
fell before them, and on the 20th of January they marched into Amsterdam
itself, and were complete conquerors.

Hungry and half-frozen as they were, it would not have been strange if
these poor soldiers had rushed into the warm houses of the city and
helped themselves to food and clothing. But they did nothing of the
kind. They stacked their arms in the streets and public squares, and
quietly waited in the snow, patiently bearing t