Before he knew it, William found himself offering a plan of attack. The others listened with great attention. "A true military eye," observed one old man, leaning over his neighbor's shoulder. "It is a young David come to lead us against the Philistines." Suddenly William caught his breath. What was he doing? This was nice work for an officer in the service of the King. "How far off is this brick house you speak of?" he asked, hoping that even now he might escape the consequences of his impetuosity. "Maybe a mile or so," was the response from the old man. "Had we better not divide our forces, as you suggest, and prepare for an attack?" said Ralston. "Yes, I have a thirsty sword." The man tapped an old Scotch claymore that hung by his side. "Well said, McPherson," put in another, and William followed them as they went out through the barn door. "Draw up in line, comrades, the older men to the top of the hill, and the younger take position at the edge of the swamp," Ralston spoke again. It seemed impossible that such a mob could do anything against an organized resistance, but a surge of mingled admiration and pride swept over William. A great lump came into his throat. He glanced at the eager boys and the bent forms of the old men. Ye gods! These were his countrymen! Some one, he did not know who, shouted, "Forward!" and he found himself at the head of a shuffling, swaying company that straggled out across the road. He was leading as they silently went through the meadow and came to the crest of a hill where the stubble of the corn-stalks just showed above the snow. Below him he saw a large brick house, and about it a strong stone wall. Even from this distance he could make out the green uniforms of the Hessians and a few red coats dotted amongst them. William halted an instant.