Rapidly and with a joyful alacrity he drew up the men into three ranks, rank behind rank, and bade them look carefully to the loading of their pieces, and not to waste their shot. Then he directed the first rank that they should wait till the enemy came within forty paces of the rampart, and when he gave the word they should fire their volley steadily and all together; that having fired the second rank should take their place, and that they in turn should give way to the third. The simple measure was easily understood, and the men smiled in silence as they handled their muskets and waited for the word. “The women are coming to see how you have done, my sons,” Baker said, “but I think you will not want their help to-day. Yonder fellows are but three to one; you could spare them greater odds than that and beat them still. I would wager a golden guinea never a man of them will touch the rampart.” The enemy had advanced to within a hundred yards of the ramparts and then halted to complete their formation, which had been broken by the straggling fences of which we have already spoken. The silence behind the earthworks had been so complete that they looked for an easy victory over the guards on duty there. It was now broad day, and the defenders could see all along the line their enemies hastening to the attack. With a loud cheer the latter advanced at the double, and were close upon the ramparts when they were met by a sudden spurt of fire that ran simultaneously along the line, and by a shower of bullets that brought them to a stand. But the check was only momentary. Believing that they had now to deal with empty barrels, they sprang forward with redoubled ardour, and were within a few paces of that fatal rampart when a second time the leaden hail smote them with withering effect. They halted in confusion and fired wildly into the smoke-covered curtain. Above the clamour and din rang out the voice of Baker-- “Steadily, my children, they are nearly satisfied. Advance! Fire!”