o New York. Here was an opportunity for Morgan's Rangers.
They followed Howe's army like a swarm of angry hornets. When too
annoying, the British would turn and drive them back, but, as soon as
the march was resumed, they would return and again sting the rear of
the column into desperation.

When the Rangers first came in contact with the retreating British the
latter were crossing a bridge. Here was a fine opportunity for
Morgan's men, and they used it to the fullest extent. Their bullets
laid many a poor Hessian in the dust, for the aim of the riflemen was
quick and accurate, whereas that of the British was mechanical.

"Ah! Another bee has stung that arm. The redcoats intend to get it, I
believe," suddenly cried Rodney.

"Does yer arm feel numb?" asked Zeb.

"No, I guess it's just a scratch. Anyhow I'm going to use it while I
may."

No, our two comrades lost no time examining trifling wounds, while
British bullets whistled about their ears. On the contrary, they were
loading and firing as rapidly as possible, and the perspiration was
streaming down their powder-blackened faces, for the day was hot.

"They are going to support the column; look out for a volley. Git down
here, lie low," and, suiting action to word, Zeb threw himself on the
grass.

A body of Hessians had wheeled about and posted themselves behind some
temporary breastworks, which had been thrown up that morning. "Up and
at 'em," was the word, and the Rangers ran forward and threw
themselves on the ground so that most of the volley from the enemy
passed over their heads.

"Up and at 'em" again, each time nearer, while flanking parties
were working around toward the rear of the redoubts. The enemy
behind the breastworks had the advantage both in number and
position, and held back the Rangers, who had no bayonets and could
not charge successfully.

"Here comes General Wayne's brigade, now we'll dislodge 'em," shouted
Zeb in his excitement, and Bunster stood up and cheered.

"We'll teach 'em that they have to earn their money when they hire out
to lick Americans," cried Rodney.

"What's the matter with Bunster!" exclaimed Zeb, for their companion
staggered and pitched forward in a heap, his hands convulsively
clutching the grass.

"They run, they run, at 'em, boys!" and, with this cry in their ears,
Rodney and Zeb charged down on the flying enemy.

Bunster lay face down in the field. How he would have yelled and run
after the retreating He