Putnam grew angry. In spite of all that his neighbours could say, he threw off his coat and lighted a torch. Then, tying a rope around his legs, he gave the end to his friends, saying when he signaled to pull him out. In he went, headfirst, holding the lighted torch before him. Stooping, he groped his way into the body of the cave. The torch made a dim circle of light; all the rest of the den was in terrifying darkness. Silence like death was around him. He cautiously proceeded onward to an ascent. As he was slowly climbing it on hands and knees, he discovered the glaring eyeballs of the she-wolf just in front of him. Startled at the sight of the flaming torch, she gnashed her teeth and gave a sullen growl. Putnam kicked the rope, and his friends, who were listening with painful anxiety and who heard the growling of the beast, pulled him out so quickly that his shirt was stripped over his head and his body was badly cut. After he had adjusted his clothes, he loaded his gun with buckshot. Then holding the torch in one hand and the gun in the other, he entered again. This time the wolf assumed a still more fierce and terrible aspect, howling, rolling her eyes, and snapping her teeth. Then she dropped her head between her legs making ready to spring. At this moment Putnam raised his gun and fired. Stunned by the noise and suffocated with smoke, he felt himself being jerked backward out of the cave. His friends had heard the shot, and were pulling the rope. He rested a few moments in the fresh air, while letting the smoke dissipate. Then in he went a third time. The wolf lay stretched on the floor as if asleep. He put the torch to her nose to make sure that she was dead. Then he took her by the ears and kicked the rope. His friends, with loud cheers, drew him out, and the wolf with him. FROM PLOUGH TO CAMP Israel Putnam did not stay on his farm. When the French and Indian War broke out, he enlisted. He served as major. He had many thrilling escapes from Indians. Once he was captured and tortured by savages, but was rescued by the French. After many years’ service, he resigned and went back to his farm. When the news of the Battle of Lexington reached him, he was ploughing. He left his plough in the field, and unyoked his team. Then, in his old farm-clothes, he sprang on a horse and galloped off to Governor Trumbull for orders. “Go,” said the Governor, “to the seat of action.” “But my clothes, Governor!” exclaimed Putnam. “Oh, never mind your clothes,” answered he, “your military experience will be of service to your countrymen.” “But my men, Governor! What shall I do about my men?” “Oh, never mind your men,” said he, “I’ll send your men after you.” So without waiting to change his soiled farm-clothes, Putnam put spurs to his horse and in a single day rode all the way to Cambridge.