But how was it going with the others?  The firing was incessant, and shouts and cries told of death and disaster on both sides.  Stark bid Fritz make a dash for the main body and bring back word.  The brief winter’s day was beginning to draw to a close.  There was something terrible in the brightness of the fire that was streaming from the thickets as the daylight failed.  It seemed as though the very forest was in flames; and the crack of musketry was almost unceasing.

“They are calling upon us to surrender,” said Fritz, hastening back with his tale.  “The French are calling upon Rogers by name, begging him to trust to their honour and clemency, and promising the best of treatment if he and his brave men will surrender.  They are calling out that it is a pity so many bold men should perish like brute beasts.  But Rogers stands like a rock, and replies by volley after volley.  He has been hit through the wrist, and his head is bound about by a cloth; but he looks like a lion at bay, and will not yield one inch.”

“Let us back to his side, and make one great charge against the foe!” shouted Stark, who saw that no further flank movement was to be anticipated now.  His men answered by a cheer.  They were ready for any display of gallantry and courage, and swore by Stark, who was beloved of all for his happy temper and cheerful, dauntless bravery.

Up the shoulder of the hill and across the ridge they dashed.  They shouted their cry of “Rogers’ Rangers!  Rogers’ Rangers!” It was taken up by those upon the top, who gathered together and made a blind rush down towards their foe.  The French, taken by surprise at this impetuosity, and afraid of the darkness of the forest, made off in haste for Ticonderoga, having worked sad havoc amongst the bold Rangers, who were left alone with their wounded and dead, the shades of night gathering fast round them, and the camp of the foe within a few miles.

It was a situation of grave peril; but Rogers was not to be daunted.  He buried his dead; he gathered together the wounded, and afraid to allow even a night for rest, he marched his party all through the night, and by morning they were upon the shores of Lake George.

“I will fetch a sledge for the wounded,” quoth Stark, full of energy and enterprise as usual.  “It will puzzle the enemy to find the route we have taken.  Lie you here close and keep watch and ward, and I will fetch succour from the fort before the French have time to seek us out.”

This was good counsel, and Rogers followed it.  Stark, after a quick journey across the ice, brought sledges and soldiers from the fort, and in a few more days the Rangers were brought back in triumph to their huts without Fort William Henry, where they were content to lie idle for a short while, recovering from their wounds and fatigues.  Hardly a man had escaped uninjured; and some were very dangerously wounded, and died from the effects of the injuries received.