rely within sight of his neighbor, and picking up
others as we advanced, we made the crest of the hill, and entered the
open country beyond. Looking back, as the clouds broke, we could see the
long lines of infantry forming in the valley below, with black specks
here and there as staff officers rode with orders. Twice we ran up
against small parties of horsemen, exchanging shots, but these fell back,
leaving the road clear. By dark we were at Englishtown, hungry and
thoroughly worn out, and there were halted, sleeping upon our arms. All I
had in my haversack was a single hard biscuit, after munching which I lay
down upon the ground and fell instantly asleep.

CHAPTER XXVII

THE FIGHT AT MONMOUTH

The next day--Sunday, the twenty-eighth of June, 1778--dawned with
cloudless sky, hot, sultry, the warmest day of the year. Not a breath of
air stirred the leaves, and in the tree branches above us birds sang
gleefully. Before daybreak we, who had been permitted to sleep for a few
hours, were aroused by the sentries, and, in the gray dawn, partook of a
meagre breakfast. A fresh supply of ammunition was brought up and
distributed among the men, and, before sunrise, we were in line, stripped
for a hot day's work, eagerly awaiting orders.

I can make no pretence at describing in any detail, or sequence, the
memorable action at Monmouth Court House, but must content myself with
depicting what little I saw upon the firing line of Maxwell's brigade. We
advanced slowly eastward over a gently rolling country, diversified by
small groves. In advance was a thin line of skirmishers, and to left and
right were Dickinson's and Wayne's men, their muskets gleaming in the
sunlight. Early the rumor crept about among us that Lee had come up
during the night with fresh troops, and assumed command.

Who led us was of but small consequence, however, as there was now no
doubt in any mind but what battle was inevitable. Already to the south
echoed a sound of firing where Morgan had uncovered a column of Dragoons.
Then a courier from Dickinson dashed along our rear seeking Lee,
scattering broadcast the welcome news that Knyphausen and his Hessians,
the van of the British movement, were approaching. With a cheer of
anticipation, the soldiers flung aside every article possible to discard,
and pressed recklessly forward. Before we moved a mile my horse became so
lame, I was obliged to dismount, and proceed on foot. Never have I
experienced a