The attacking force of English numbered about a hundred, and, despite their scanty numbers, they rushed forward with the greatest gallantry, shouting to each other and uttering a hearty cheer. The top of the fence burst into a long streak of flame, and the crack of many rifles together made a heavy crash, followed by an irregular crackle, as more rifles were fired. All but a few in the front ranks of the attacking column were cut down, and those in the rear still pushing on, dropped fast before the deliberate fire of the concealed sharpshooters. "It's a trap," I said to Sir William; "the English are sure to be beaten." We heard a rapid drum behind us, and the footsteps of an advancing regiment; but they would be too late to save the forlorn hope charging the fence. The crackling fire swelled again into a volley, and the red blur made by the uniforms of the advancing English became dimmer. I heard a groan beside me. It was Vivian, pale and weak, with a limply hanging arm, who had ridden up. "They will all be killed," he said. The charging force was now approaching the fence, and always in the van was the bulky figure of Schwarzfelder, bestriding his horse, man and beast apparently alike untouched, the German brandishing a huge sword, and shouting as if he were possessed by a demon. "Certainly Schwarzfelder is brave," muttered Sir William, who perhaps remembered the night that I had cast the German out of his quarters. The forlorn hope was almost at the fence, and then the fire of the riflemen increased rapidly. Many of the English fell, and the few who were left, unable to stand such a leaden sleet, turned and ran, as they should have done long before, all except Schwarzfelder, who rode straight at the fence. Then I saw an unusual thing. Two men, evidently large and powerful, and at the distance the first looked to me remarkably like Wildfoot, sprang over the fence and seized Schwarzfelder from either side. Then, while one tore the sword from his hand, the other, the one who looked like Wildfoot, sprang up behind him, and, holding him around the waist, jumped the horse over the low fence. Then we heard the distant thud of hoofs as they disappeared in the darkness. "What an insult to Hessian dignity!" said Vivian beside me. Then he added in a low voice, that Sir William might not hear: "There's an end to your duel, Melville. The gods are surely unwilling for you to fight." When the regiment advancing to the relief reached the fence, the Americans were gone and no one could discover where. The attack at the other points ceased almost simultaneously, and the fires burned out slowly. The search for Wildfoot in the city was continued, but no trace of him could be found, and, eating his heart out in his anger, Sir William returned to his quarters. CHAPTER SIXTEEN--_A Rebuke for Waters_