Matters grew worse and worse.  Seven North-Enders had been seriously wounded, and a dozen South-Enders were reported on the sick list.  The selectmen of the town awoke to the fact of what was going on, and detailed a posse of police to prevent further disturbance.  The boys at the foot of the hill, South-Enders as it happened, finding themselves assailed in the rear and on the flank, turned round and attempted to beat off the watchmen.  In this they were sustained by numerous volunteers from the fort, who looked upon the interference as tyrannical.

The watch were determined fellows, and charged the boys valiantly, driving them all into the fort, where we made common cause, fighting side by side like the best of friends.  In vain the four guardians of the peace rushed up the hill, flourishing their clubs and calling upon us to surrender.  They could not get within ten yards of the fort, our fire was so destructive.  In one of the onsets a man named Mugridge, more valorous than his peers, threw himself upon the parapet, when he was seized by twenty pairs of hands, and dragged inside the breastwork, where fifteen boys sat down on him to keep him quiet.

Perceiving that it was impossible with their small number to dislodge us, the watch sent for reinforcements.  Their call was responded to, not only by the whole constabulary force (eight men), but by a numerous body of citizens, who had become alarmed at the prospect of a riot.  This formidable array brought us to our senses:  we began to think that maybe discretion was the better part of valor.  General Harris and General Ames, with their respective staffs, held a council of war in the hospital, and a backward movement was decided on.  So, after one grand farewell volley, we fled, sliding, jumping, rolling, tumbling down the quarry at the rear of the fort, and escaped without losing a man.

But we lost Fort Slatter forever.  Those battle-scarred ramparts were razed to the ground, and humiliating ashes sprinkled over the historic spot, near which a solitary lynx-eyed policeman was seen prowling from time to time during the rest of the winter.

The event passed into a legend, and afterwards, when later instances of pluck and endurance were spoken of, the boys would say, “By golly!  You ought to have been at the fights on Slatter’s Hill!”

Chapter Fourteen—­The Cruise of the Dolphin

It was spring again.  The snow had faded away like a dream, and we were awakened, so to speak, by the sudden chirping of robins in our back garden.  Marvellous transformation of snowdrifts into lilacs, wondrous miracle of the unfolding leaf!  We read in the Holy Book how our Saviour, at the marriage-feast, changed the water into wine; we pause and wonder; but every hour a greater miracle is wrought at our very feet, if we have but eyes to see it.