In a moment they had spread themselves out in the best possible manner, retreating upon the hill they had just descended, and covering themselves with the trees, from behind which they fired with unerring accuracy.  Stark and some of his men were at the top of the hill, having been the rear guard of the company.  They poured a steady, deadly fire into the bushes which concealed the foe; whilst their comrades, running from tree to tree, fell back upon them, and forming on the hilltop, repulsed again and again, with stubborn gallantry, the assault of a foe which they knew must outnumber them by four or five to one.

But the face of Rogers was still set and stern.

“They will try to outflank us next, and get round to the rear,” he said between his teeth to Stark.  “Stark, you must pick some of our best men, and stop that movement if it occurs.  If they get us between two fires, we are all dead men!”

“Fritz, you will be my lieutenant,” said Stark, as he looked about him and chose his company.  Fritz was at his side in a moment.  “We are in as evil a chance as ever men were yet,” he added, “but I think we shall live to tell the tale by the warm fireside at home.  I have been in tight fixes before this, and have won through somehow.  I trust our gallant Rogers will not fall.  That would carry confusion to our ranks.”

Shoulder to shoulder stood Fritz and Stark, warily watching the movements of the foe.  They saw them creeping round the base of the hill—­saw it by the movement of the brushwood rather than by anything else; for their foes were used to bush craft, too.

“If anything should go amiss with me today, friend John,” said Fritz, as he loaded his piece, looking sternly down into the hollow beneath, “give my love to Susanna, and tell her that her name will be on my lips and my heart in the hour of death.”

“Talk not of death, man, but of victory!” cried Stark, whose indomitable cheerfulness never forsook him.  “Yet I will remember and give the message to my pretty cousin—­for I know that women live on words like these—­if the blow has to fall.  But never think of that!”

“I do not,” answered Fritz; “I hope to come forth safe and sound.  But were it otherwise—­”

“Fire!” cried Stark, breaking suddenly into the commander; and a sharp, deadly volley blazed forth from the guns of his contingent.

It was plain that the enemy had not expected this flank movement to be observed.  Cries of dismay and pain rang through the forest.  They broke cover and ran back towards the main body, followed by another well-directed volley from the brave Stark and his men.

Round the spot where Rogers and the main body of the Rangers stood the fight waxed fierce and hot.  But Stark held to his post on the spur of the hill, where he saw how the foe was trying to get round to their rear; and again and again his well-aimed volleys sent them flying back decimated to their companions.