Fritz made no reply.  It seemed to him that many lives would be cut short upon this fateful day.  He wondered whether he should live to see the shades of evening fall.  He had no thought of quailing or drawing back.  He had cast in his lot with the army, and he meant to fight his very best that day; but he realized the hopelessness of the contest before them, and although, if the General could only be aroused in time to a sense of his own blunder, and would at the eleventh hour order up the cannon, and take those steps which might ensure success, the tide of battle might soon be turned.  Yet no man felt any confidence in him as a leader, and it was only the ignorant soldiers, unaware of what lay before them, who rose to greet the coming day with hope and confidence in their hearts.

But it was something that they should start forth with so high a courage.  Even if they were going to their death, it was better they should believe that they were marching forth to victory.  They cheered lustily as they received the order, which was to carry the breastwork by a bayonet charge; and only the Rangers saw the grim smile which crossed the face of Rogers as he heard that word given.

Yet he and his gallant band of Rangers were in the van.  They did not shrink from the task before them, although they knew better than others the perils and difficulties by which it was beset.  They had widened the path; they led the way.  There was no more confusion in the line of march.

The General remained behind at the sawmills, to direct the operations of the whole army, as there were other slighter enterprises to be undertaken upon the same day, though the assault of the protecting rampart was the chief one.  News was to be brought to him at short intervals of the course the fight was taking.  It was Rogers’ great hope that he would soon be made aware of the impossibility of the task he had set his soldiers, and would send instant and urgent orders for the cannon to be brought up to the aid of his foot soldiers.

Full of hope and confidence the columns pressed forward, till shortly after midday they emerged from the shelter of the forest, and saw before them the broken space of open ground, with its encumbering mass of stumps and fallen timber, and behind that the grim rampart, where all looked still as death.  They formed into line quickly and without confusion and then, with an enthusiastic cheer, made a dash for the barrier.

The Rangers and light infantry in front began to fire as they advanced; but the main body of soldiers held their bayonets in position, and strove after an orderly advance.  But over such ground order was impossible.  They had to clamber, to scramble, to cut their way as best they could.  The twigs and branches blinded them; they fell over the knotted roots; they became disordered and scattered, though their confidence remained unshaken.

Then suddenly, when they were half across the open space, came the long crack and blaze from end to end of the rampart; smoke seemed to gush and flash out from one extremity to the other.  Sharp cries of agony and dismay, shouts and curses, filled the air.  The English fell in dozens amid the fallen trees, and those behind rushed forward over the bodies of their doomed companions.