nfident that he had held the winning
cards, and all that was necessary was that the hand should be played
out in the morning, to enable him to take the game again. He did
indeed hold the higher cards, but the "old fox" showed himself the
better player.

On the other side of the creek, in the house of good Mistress
Dagworthy, anxious hearts were debating. General Washington had
summoned a council of war, which expressed the usual diversity of
opinion on all subjects, except an unwillingness to fight, upon which,
like every other council of war, it was agreed. Indeed the odds were
fearful! Ten thousand seasoned, well-equipped, well-trained, veteran
troops, ably led, and smarting with the late defeat and the check of
the day against five thousand or six thousand wretchedly provided
soldiers, three-fifths of whom were raw militiamen, who had never heard
a shot fired in anger!

Not even a leader like Washington, and officers to second him like
Greene, Sullivan, Knox, St. Clair, Stephen, Stirling, Cadwalader,
Sargeant, Mercer, Mifflin, Reed, Stark, Hand, Glover, and the others,
could overcome such a disparity and inequality.

Cornwallis had only to outflank them, crumple them up, roll them back
on the impassable Delaware, and then--God help them all!

There was no disguising the critical nature of their situation, and the
army had never before been in so desperate a position. It needed no
great skill to see the danger now to be faced, but the mistake of
Cornwallis gave them a brief respite, of which they promptly availed
themselves. Washington was not a man before whom it was ever safe to
indulge in mistakes, and the more difficult his position, the more
dangerous he became. Trial, danger, hazard, seemed to bring out all of
the most remarkable qualities of the man in the highest degree.
Nothing alarmed him, nothing dismayed him, nothing daunted him; the
hotter the conflict, the more pressing the danger, the cooler he
became. No man on earth was ever more ready and quick to avail himself
of time and opportunity, once he had determined upon a course of
action. This campaign was the most signal illustration, among many
others, which his wonderful career affords. Action, prompt, bold,
decisive, was as the breath of life to him; but before coming to a
decision, contrary to the custom of great commanders generally, he
usually called a council of war, which, on account of his excessive
modesty, he sometimes allowed to