I cried out in anger and grief, heedless of what I said, and one of those men whose voice had been loudest for an immediate advance, although he was a cripple who had never taken a step without his crutches for more than five years, called me a coward, declaring that we Minute Boys had no sooner seen the feathers of an Indian than we beat a retreat. “Do not make reply,” Master Morley said as he led me away by main strength, for I was minded to call upon my comrades to bear me out in the story I had told. “Though an hundred were to repeat what we have said, and there were a dozen lifeless bodies here as proof, such pig-heads as that fellow would still declare they knew better than any other. At one o’clock we shall march out to our death, and the women and children whom we leave behind will be at the mercy of those ravening wolves. Thank God, my dear ones are not on this side of the river!” “Then you will go, knowing that we have no possible show of winning the battle?” I asked, and Master Morley replied, stoutly: “That is my duty, lad. Because these people are fools, is no reason why we can remain idle when all in the valley march forth to battle.” Until this moment I had not realized that those of us who had escaped from Fort Jenkins must march back, even as those at Wintermoot’s would have us do; but now I understood what our duty was, and as soon as might be did I call Giles and Daniel to where Master Morley and I stood. “Some one must go back to where Master Bartlett is in hiding,” I said sharply, for it was already so near noon that there was no time for argument, and I counted on their taking my words as a command. “There are weapons and ammunition here in plenty, and he who goes to carry the word of the folly to be done this day must take with him a full load, so that those who are alive to-morrow morning will have that with which to procure food, or defend themselves.” Neither of the lads questioned as to whether we were bound to go with the foolish ones; both seemed to believe as did Master Morley, that we could not hold back even while knowing how fatal such a move would be; but Giles March said: “Who is to go back?” “You, if you will,” I replied quickly, wronging the lad by fancying it would give him pleasure to thus avoid the danger. “Not me!” he cried, shrilly. “I will not have it said that I was too much of a coward to follow yonder party of cripples.” I looked at Daniel questioningly; but he shook his head as he said: “My reason is the same as that given by Giles March.” “Draw lots for it,” Master Morley suggested, “and then it can be said that he who goes does so against his will.” In order that the matter might be settled without further delay, I broke off four twigs, saying as I concealed them in my hand: “He who draws the shortest will set out at once, and give his word to remain with those at the cave till this day’s bloody work has come to an end, or John Butler has worked his will on the valley.”