The gallant general's rude eloquence prevailed, the men saw their error, were indeed ashamed of it; they listened with attention, presented arms, as their beloved commander rode along the line to the din of the drums, and about-faced for camp, which they did not desert again during the winter. "Thus was a great and mighty battle fought and won. A battle fought with the British far away. A battle fought with hunger, want, cold, and banishment from home. A battle fought in the wilderness, where most of the world's greatest battles are fought."[3] [Footnote 3: From an historical address by Prof. George A. Parker, of Hartford, Conn., on the occasion of the visit of the famous Putnam Phalanx to Putnam Park and Camp, June 17, 1903.] This episode of the winter camp of 1778-'79 forms a fitting prelude to another feat performed by Old Put, this time a physical one, which, while not so worthy of renown, perhaps, as the great moral victory he achieved over his men, has brought him greater fame. Both taken together absolutely refute the insinuations of his enemies, to the effect that he had suffered a decline of mental, moral, or physical force. Washington wrote, commending him for his action in suppressing the mutiny; and as for the feat now to be mentioned, it may be said to speak for itself. In fact, it has been speaking, now, for a century and a quarter, since it is that famous ride down the stone steps of Horseneck Height to which reference is made. It took place one morning in the last week of February, toward the close of the long winter's vigil at Redding. Putnam and his men were out as soon as the sap in the trees was flowing, and long before, in fact, keeping watch upon and trying to check the operations of the notorious Tryon and his crew. It chanced that he met the British, fifteen hundred strong, when on a visit to his outpost at Horseneck, now "Putnam's Hill," in Greenwich, Conn. Having but one hundred and fifty men and two old iron guns, which latter he had posted "on the high ground by the meeting-house," he was obliged to retreat. Ordering his men to seek shelter in a near swamp, Old Put waited till the British dragoons were almost within sword's length of him, when he put spurs to his horse and dashed over the brow of the hill, zigzagging down a rude flight of seventy stone steps set into the precipitous declivity. The dragoons dared not follow after this intrepid horseman, but they sent a flight of bullets, one of which passed through his hat. Arrived on level ground he made no halt until he had reached Stamford, where he collected a force of militia in short order, with which he turned upon Tryon, compelling him to retreat, and chasing him to his lair, capturing forty prisoners and retaking a large amount of plunder. CHAPTER XVIII THE DISABLED VETERAN