several days; the roads were impassable, they had no bottom.
Objections were made on all sides: the artillery could not possibly be
moved, no horses could pull the wagons through the mud, the troops
could not march in it. But Washington, with true instincts, held to
his carefully devised plan with an unusual resolution. Arguing,
explaining, suggesting, convincing, persuading, the hours slipped away,
until at ten o'clock at night there came a sudden change in the
weather, perceptible even to those in the house. Washington ran
eagerly to the door and opened it. Followed by the general officers,
he stepped out into the night. It was dark and cloudy, no moon or
stars even, and growing colder every moment under the rising northeast
wind.

"Gentlemen," he cried gayly, "Providence has decided for us. The wind
has shifted. The army will move in two hours."

At the time specified by the commander, the muddy roads were frozen
hard. The heavy baggage was sent down to Burlington, and a strong
party of active men was left to keep bright fires burning, and charged
to show themselves as much as possible and make a great commotion by
throwing up fortifications and loud talking, with instructions to slip
away and join the main body early next day as best they could. At one
o'clock in the morning the astonished army started out upon their
adventurous journey,--another long cold night march. The untravelled
roads were as smooth and hard as iron. With muffled wheels they
succeeded in stealing away undetected.

CHAPTER XXVII

_The Lion Turns Fox_

The Quaker road led southeast from Trenton until it reached the village
of Sandtown, where it turned to the northwest again, and it was not
until that point was reached that the surprised soldiers realized the
daring nature of the manoeuvre, and the character of that night march,
which they had at first considered another hopeless retreat. It was
astonishing, then, with what spirit and zeal the soldiers tramped
silently over the frozen roads; the raw, green militia vied with the
veterans, in the fortitude with which they sustained the dreadful
fatigue of the severe march. The long distance to be traversed, on
account of the detour to be made, rendered it necessary that the men be
moved at the highest possible speed. The road itself being a new one,
lately cleared, the stumps and roots of trees not yet grubbed up, made
it difficult to transport the artillery and the wagons