Even now, when we were committed to the foolish venture, we continued to argue against the plan which had been decided upon, trying to prove to the ignorant hot-heads how impossible it would be to surprise a commander who had already begun his savage warfare; but only a few would listen to us, and even these turned away when we were done, as if believing they had spent their time on cowards. Colonel Zebulon Butler, and the army officers who were with him, appeared to be the only ones who did not believe it possible for our three hundred cripples to overcome John Butler’s eleven hundred wolves; but these military men, like us from Fort Jenkins, would go with the undisciplined mob, preferring to meet death than have it said they refused to obey the call to arms at such a time. From the moment when it was seen that there was no hope of convincing the foolish ones of their error until near to one o’clock, the officers worked industriously, trying to get the motley gathering into something like shape, and then the people were divided into six companies, each with a military man at its head. We three, together with the six Minute Boys whom we had found at Forty Fort, were in that division led by Captain Durkee. Colonel Zebulon Butler was in command of the apology for an army, and Major Garratt stood second in rank. We set out from the stockade at the time agreed upon, leaving behind the women and children unprotected, and it was much like absolutely abandoning them. “Even though the battle does not go against us, the chances are that those poor creatures will fall victims to the savages before any of this mob can return,” Master Morley said, sorrowfully, as he looked back at the helpless ones, and then we tried to put from our minds all else save the determination to fight desperately so long as our people could be kept together. Our straggling column had no more than gotten under way before it was joined by the justices of the courts and others holding office in the valley, as if we were going out to serve writs of ejectment rather than to offer ourselves as victims to John Butler’s murderers. It was not until near to four o’clock that we arrived within sight of Wintermoot’s, and then my comrades and I were literally bewildered at seeing the stockade in flames, as if the enemy had applied the torch lest we should succeed in capturing it. “Can it be that John Butler, half-savage, half-brute that he is, fears what this collection of cripples may be able to do?” Giles March asked, in astonishment, and Master Morley replied: “He doubtless fears that we are coming in some large force. If his scouts brought in word that all the people of the valley were making ready to march against him, he, knowing they had had a good chance to learn of his strength, believed they were mustered in overwhelming numbers. The loss of Wintermoot’s won’t be serious to him, since he can soon have his pick of all the stockades in the valley.”