to some one on the other side of the river, and from that quarter, soon after, came the rattle of musketry. It did not last long and when it died away, an orderly was detached from the General’s staff and came galloping to deliver a message to Izard, who instantly gave the order to cease firing. The column fell back a few paces and the men stood in rank, awaiting orders. To Morton’s surprise, firing from the British line also ceased, and the two combatants simply looked at one another. “Can it be,” asked Morton, “that our General does not want to provoke an engagement and would be content to see the Americans leave?” The brief October day was drawing to an end, and still the American brigade stood immovable and there was not a sign of life along the British line. When the grey clouds began to be tinged by the setting sun, and it was apparent nothing more could be done that day, Izard received the order to fall back. As if on parade, the evolutions requisite were gone through and the column began its march to the camp, three miles in rear. “Hillo, Morton, you seem stupefied. Lost in amaze at the gallantry of your comrades-in-arms permitting a brigade to file off under their nose without an attempt to molest them. Eh?” The voice was that of Colonel Vanderberg. “I confess you interpret my thoughts,” answered Morton. “I am glad to see you back.” “I have had a fatiguing day’s duty and am not yet done. I have just left the General, who instructed me to go over and see Purdy and arrange for the withdrawal of his force. Will you come with me?” “That I will; I am tired of standing here.”