The division under Washington reached the opposite shore with slight delay, the others were less fortunate, but by eight o’clock the next morning Washington’s command and one under Sullivan dashed down upon the astonished Britishers, who were just resting from their revels, and shook the town by their yells and shots. The maddened Hessians sprang to line and tried to resist the oncoming foe. Wild excitement prevailed, and above the whizzing of shot rose the triumphant shouts of the ragged, half-frozen patriots. In the thickest of the fray rode always the mighty commander, his clear voice calmly calling out orders, and his steady hand pointing his sword. With eyes ever fixed on that brave form, Shirtliffe stumbled and struggled after, hoping that standing or falling, at the end he would not be far behind his hero. And another thought mingled with that,—he must keep _one_ bullet, in case he fell badly wounded,—he never forgot that. The fight was fierce, but short; in an hour a thousand of the foe were begging for mercy; the others had fled toward Bordentown at the first alarm. So Washington gathered his forces in Trenton and the British fell back to Princeton. Cornwallis then took command determining that the “old fox,” meaning Washington, should not find _him_ napping and get away, he, the great Cornwallis meant to put an end forever to the exploits of this daring rebel! And indeed it seemed likely that he might be successful for sickness and cold were enfeebling the patriot army day by day. Their splendid courage strengthened by their late victory bore them up during the after days of suffering, but Washington realized that he must act promptly and wisely if he wished to hold what he had so hardly won. He could not recross the river. His proud spirit quailed at the thought of retreat, but to engage in another battle just then might mean ruin. In his extremity he called a council of war. “Cornwallis is advancing,” he said calmly, “our skirmishing lines have but driven the British back this afternoon. At daybreak the attack will be renewed. There is but one thing for us to do.” The eager men listened breathlessly. The glaring red torch lights showed their faces pinched and wan. What was it Washington wanted them to do? Every man was ready to do it! “We have but five thousand in camp,” the calm voice went on, “we must leave to-night, make a circuit to the east, pass the enemy’s flank, and make an attack upon the detachment in Princeton before Cornwallis can return to help them.” A mighty cheer went up. Robert from his place wedged in among the excited patriots, glowed and thrilled as he heard the daring plan. This was a general worth following. A man to be loved! “But”—he was still speaking, though the shouts had drowned, for the moment, his voice, “there is one thing more to do, and for that I want volunteers.” Robert’s heart almost choked him. Could there be any deed too great for him to undertake?