The first onslaught quickly drove back the British, but they recovered and came on again, each in full marching equipment,--a mistake on this warm day. Once more, and then again the muskets of the continentals blazed forth, and rank after rank of redcoats went down, many to rise no more. "Hurrah! We're giving them all they want!" cried Ralph Post enthusiastically. The repulse at the redoubt was duplicated at the rail fence, and for the moment General Howe was nonplussed. But then he reorganized his shattered forces. Yet even this was of no avail--again the redcoats went back, with many more left dead on the battlefield. "This is battle," spoke Ralph Post to Phil, as the Musket Boys, glad of a respite from the repulse of their determined enemy, rested on the ground within the redoubt. "They are more than two to one," replied Phil, "but if we can hold them in check that same way once or twice more they will be beaten." The next dash up the hill caused a scene amid which every soldier engaged fairly lost his head. They were at such close quarters, assailer and besieged, that the constant fusillade was deafening, the very air seemed to breathe fire. The younger volunteers were thrilled at many a brave act of heroism, and sickened and shuddered as they viewed sudden and terrible death. General Howe was now bewildered, for he had not dreamed of such a determined resistance on the part of the colonists. "If this battle is lost, America is lost," said one of his under-officers. To this Howe did not reply, but bit his lip in deep thought. General Clinton had witnessed the repulses of the British from Copp's Hill and now he thought it high time to go to General Howe's assistance. He came over in a hurry, with such soldiers as he could summon in haste. "The rebels must be short of ammunition," said one officer. "They are holding back their fire." And this was true. The ammunition was indeed low, and the Musket Boys had less than three rounds all around. More than this, the boys were dry, for none of them had had a drop of water for hours, and the day was growing hotter and hotter. In many spots the gun-wads had set fire to the dry grass. "Here they come again!" was the cry, and once more the redcoats advanced. The Americans blazed away until all their ammunition was gone, then fought with swords, clubbed guns, bayonets, sticks, rocks, and whatever came handy. It was the fiercest hand-to-hand conflict yet held, and never had the Musket Boys fought more bravely. The din was terrific, and the thick smoke rolled on all sides. "Give it to them, boys! Don't surrender!" cried General Warren, and ran from one of the trenches. A few minutes later a bullet struck him in the head, killing him.