the work we would have come to grief.

As I said, the men who had come to Bunker hill did good work in covering
our retreat until they themselves became panic-stricken, heeding not the
entreaties nor the threats of Israel Putnam, as he strove in vain to
hold them steady that we who were without ammunition might have some
small show of escaping with our lives.

Then it was that when all of General Putnam's attempts were shown to be
vain, these men of ours who should have held their own on Bunker hill,
joined in the retreat, and we set off, a rabble rather than the remnants
of an army, in the perilous attempt to pass across Charlestown Neck,
which was swept with shot from the ship _Glasgow_ and the small craft
which had been anchored by the British in position to cover that narrow
passage in order to prevent reinforcements being sent to us who were
struggling on Breed's hill.

Panic-stricken as we were, the only thought in our minds was that the
enemy would pursue us even as far as Cambridge, in order to make an end
of the so-called rebellion at once, and while fleeing at my best speed,
dodging now and then a British cannon ball, I feverishly hoped they
would come after us with all their force, for there, where we could find
ammunition, it might be possible for us to pay back some part of the
debt of revenge which we owed.

Of that terrible retreat it is, perhaps, not necessary I should set
down more than that after we had succeeded in crossing the Neck, leaving
behind us many a poor fellow weltering in his blood, we continued on at
a speed which, in view of our fatigue, would not have been possible save
because of the seeming certainty that death must overtake him who played
the laggard.

Not until we were come to the encampment at Cambridge and were lying at
full length upon the ground as do dogs after a furious race, did I
realize all of the exhaustion which had been brought about by the night
of perilous toil and the day of suspense and desperate fighting,
together with the mad flight which called for the last remaining ounce
of strength in our bodies.

I no longer gave heed to my comrades; it was as if the Minute Boys of
Boston had never an existence--almost as if the Cause was forgotten,
while I lay prone upon the ground so weary that it was an exertion to
breathe. Hunger and thirst had no place in my mind, nor did I realize
anything distinctly, save the utter physical collapse, until another day
had come, w