sooner had they again commenced their
march, than the powerful white horse was seen careering at full speed
over the hills, with the dauntless old yankee on his back.

"'Ha!' cried the soldiers, 'there comes that old fellow again, on the
white horse! Look out for yourselves, for one of us has got to die, in
spite of fate.' And one of them did die, for Hezekiah's aim was true,
and his principles of economy would not admit of his wasting powder or
ball. Throughout the whole of that bloody road between Lexington and
Cambridge, the fatal approaches of the white horse and his rider were
dreaded by the trained troops of Britain, and every wound inflicted by
Hezekiah needed no repeating. But on reaching Cambridge, the regulars,
greatly to their comfort, missed the old man and his horse. They
comforted themselves by the conjecture that he had, at length, paid the
forfeit of his temerity, and that his steed had gone home with a bloody
bridle and an empty saddle. Not so.--Hezekiah had only lingered for a
moment to aid in a plot which had been laid by Amni Cutter, for taking
the baggage-waggons and their guards. Amni had planted about fifty old
rusty muskets under a stone wall, with their muzzles directed toward the
road. As the waggons arrived opposite this battery, the muskets were
discharged, and eight horses, together with some soldiers, were sent out
of existence. The party of soldiers who had the baggage in charge ran to
a pond, and, plunging their muskets into the water, surrendered
themselves to an old woman, called Mother Barberick, who was at that
time digging roots in an adjacent field. A party of Americans recaptured
the gallant Englishmen from Mother Barberick, and placed them in safe
keeping. The captives were exceedingly astonished at the suddenness of
the attack, and declared that the yankees would rise up like musketoes
out of a marsh, and kill them. This chef d'oeuvre having been concluded,
the harassed soldiers were again amazed by the appearance of Hezekiah,
whose white horse was conspicuous among the now countless assailants
that sprang from every hill and ringing dale, copse and wood, through
which the bleeding regiments, like wounded snakes, held their toilsome
way. His fatal aim was taken, and a soldier fell at every report of his
piece. Even after the worried troops had entered Charlestown, there was
no escape for them from the deadly bullets of the restless veteran. The
appalling white horse would suddenl