On the summit of Breed's Hill the skilled engineer quickly ran the lines of that world-famous redoubt in which our immortal freemen inflicted a technical defeat upon Britain's bravest soldiers. It was planned and constructed with a redan facing Charlestown which protected the south side of the hill, and was only about eight rods square, continued by a breastwork on its eastern side, from which it was separated by a sallyport protected in front by a "blind," with a passage-way opening rearward as a provision for retreat. The men were given picks and shovels, and at once bent to their task with feverish energy. Scant four hours they had before them, when daylight would reveal them and their position to the enemy, for June's longest days and shortest nights were near, with daylight at four in the morning. They all labored for their lives, both officers and men, and toiled without cessation to the end. The night was dark, but the stars shone bright, and by their light Colonel Prescott and another officer, Major Brooks, stole down to the shore to observe the enemy, where they were reassured by the "All's well" from the British sentries on board the ships off shore. All was not well--for them--most assuredly; but it was not until the morning mists rolled away from the rounded summits of the hills in front that they found it out. Then they might well gaze in wrath and wonder, beholding that work as if of enchantment going on before them, on that hill-top within short cannon-shot of their shipping. But they did not spend much time in rubbing their eyes and in vain speculation, being well assured at a glance that the "rascally American militia" had stolen a march upon them in the night and brought all their plans to naught. A brisk cannonade was opened from the war-ships upon the weary, toiling men in the entrenchment; but they still worked on, incited to their utmost by the gallant Prescott, who himself is said to have lent a hand with pick and shovel. General Putnam's predictions as to their coolness under fire were more than verified, and had he been there then he would have been surprised at their indifference to the cannonading now going on so furiously. One man only was killed in this preliminary firing, and he had strayed outside the breastwork. "Man killed, what shall we do with him?" asked a subaltern of Prescott. "Bury him," was the laconic answer; and buried he was, in the ditch, while the work on the redoubt went on.