When Martin rejoined Sullivan's column, which had been halted at the cross-roads, the men who had witnessed his departure were eagerly waiting his return. As he repeated the general's reply, they began slipping the bayonets over the muzzles of their guns without orders. So eager were they to advance, that Sullivan had difficulty in restraining them until the signal was given. Such was their temper and spirit that, in the excitement of the moment, they recked little of the freezing cold and the hardships of their terrible march. The retreating army was at last on the offensive, they were about to attack now, and no attack is so dangerous as that delivered by men from whom the compelling necessity of retreat has been suddenly removed. It was about eight o'clock in the morning when they came in sight of the town. The village of Trenton then contained about one hundred houses, mostly frame, scattered along both sides of two long streets, and chiefly located on the west bank of the Assunpink, which here bent sharply to the north before it flowed into the Delaware. The Assunpink was fordable in places at low water, but it was spanned by a substantial stone bridge, which gave on the road followed by Sullivan, at the west end of the village. Washington came down from the north, and entered the village from the other side. About half a mile from the edge of the town, the column led by him came abreast of an old man, chopping wood in a farm-yard by the roadside. "Which is the way to the Hessian picket?" said the general. "I don't know," replied the man, sullenly. "You may tell," said Captain Forest, riding near the general, at the head of his battery, "for this is General Washington." The man's expression altered at once. "God bless and prosper you!" he cried eagerly, raising his hands to heaven. "There! The picket is in that house yonder, and the sentry stands near that tree."