cene. The neck, or narrow passage-way between the
Charles and Mystic Rivers, was only about one hundred and thirty yards
across and exposed to that terrible cannonade; yet over it flew the
reckless rider, coat off, in shirt-sleeves, an old white hat on his
head; back and forth he rode, fearless and unscathed. The great painter
Trumbull, who produced the celebrated picture of the Battle of Bunker
Hill, which has excited the admiration of thousands, represented General
Putnam conspicuously placed in that scene, but arrayed in an immaculate
uniform, with ruffles and frills, and such like accessories which "Old
Put" would have spurned.

Still, the _man_ was there, if not the uniform. His appointment as
major-general was dated two days after that memorable 17th of June; but
he was then, as brigadier-general, the ranking officer present, until
brave Warren appeared upon the scene. The latter was discovered by
Putnam just as he was wheeling about after meeting and posting the
gallant Colonel Stark and his New Hampshire reenforcements behind the
rail fence and grass breastwork, where they gave such a good account of
themselves that day. Turning about, he saw the slender figure of the
newly-made major-general before him, a sword at his side, but a musket
on his shoulder.

"What, Warren, you here?" he is said to have exclaimed. "I am sorry to
see you ... but I'm ready to submit myself to your orders."

"No, no, I came only as a volunteer," replied Warren. "Tell me where I
can be most useful."

Pointing to the redoubt, Putnam said, "You will be protected there."

"I am not seeking a place of safety," rejoined Warren with warmth; "tell
me where the onset will be most furious."

"There," answered Putnam. "That will be the enemy's object. Prescott is
there and will do his duty; if that can be defended, the day will be
ours."

The shouts of the soldiers announced to Putnam the arrival of Warren in
their midst, and not long after another cheer proclaimed the arrival of
an old friend and comrade of his, Colonel Seth Pomeroy, a veteran of the
Indian wars, who, twenty years before, had succeeded to the command of
Colonel Ephraim Williams's regiment at the battle of Lake George. He had
been aroused by the tidings from the seat of war, and though, like
Putnam, he lived nearly or quite a hundred miles away, he had hastened
to be in the thick of the fight. He had borrowed a horse from General
Ward, but, with characteristic Yankee caut