d by the infantry, who steadily held their
ground. Repeated efforts of the British only increased their losses.

Colonel Monckton's grenadiers, attempting to drive back the American
forces, were repulsed by General Knox's artillery with great
slaughter. A second attempt was made, and a third, when Colonel
Monckton received his death-blow and fell from his horse. General
Wayne then came up with a force of farmers, their sleeves rolled up as
if harvesting, and they forced the British back still farther, leaving
the bodies of their wounded and dead comrades on the field.

Through the long hours of the desperate fighting on that June day, the
mercury rose higher and higher, and many of the men's tongues were so
swollen with the heat that they could not speak, and they fell
exhausted at their posts. Seeing this, Molly, who was with her husband
on the field of battle, discovered a bubbling spring of water in the
west ravine, and spent her time through the long hours of blistering
heat tramping back and forth carrying water for the thirsty men, and
also for her husband's cannon. She used for her purpose "the cannon's
bucket," which was a fixture of the gun of that time, and she told
afterward how every time she came back with a brimming bucket of the
sparkling water, the men would call out:

"Here comes Molly with her pitcher!"

As the battle grew fiercer and her trips to the spring became more
frequent, the call was abbreviated into, "Molly Pitcher!" by which
name she was so generally known from that day that her own name has
been almost forgotten.

Higher and higher rose the sun in a cloudless sky, and up mounted the
mercury until the suffering of the soldiers in both armies was
unspeakable, although the British were in a worse state than the
Americans, because of their woolen uniforms, knapsacks, and
accoutrements, while the Continental army had no packs and had laid
off all unnecessary clothing. Even so, many of both forces died of
prostration, despite Molly's cooling drinks which she brought to as
many men as possible. John Hays worked his cannon bravely, while
perspiration streamed down his face and heat blurred his vision.
Suddenly all went black before him--the rammer dropped from his
nerveless hand, and he fell beside his gun. Quickly to his side Molly
darted, put a handkerchief wet with spring water on his hot brow, laid
her head on his heart to see whether it was still beating. He was
alive! Beckoning to two o