The words were barely out of our hero's mouth when there was a rolling crash of musketry, accompanied by wild shouts, and a shower of bullets flew zipping over their heads. Shooting high is the invariable shortcoming of excited marksmen. A moment later the heads of a large force of American riflemen rose from the rocky ambuscade above and behind them. The next instant the enemy was in full charge, evidently bent on capturing both the General and the redan. Brock saw that resistance would be madness. To save the gun and escape capture must be the "double event." Seizing a ramrod, he ordered an artilleryman to spike the gun, gave the command to retreat, telling the men to "duck their heads," fearing another discharge, and, leading his horse, followed by Macdonell and Glegg and the firing squad of eight artillerymen, rushed down the slope. * * * * * For a clearer understanding of the situation--a better conception even than our hero had when, to escape capture and save the lives of his men, he was compelled to abandon the redan--we must visit Van Rensselaer's camp at Lewiston. CHAPTER XXVII. VAN RENSSELAER'S CAMP. After midnight, on the morning of the 11th, the American general, Van Rensselaer, believing, as he wrote, "that Brock, with all his disposable forces, had left for Detroit," launched from the Lewiston landing, under cover of the pitch darkness, thirteen boats capable of carrying 340 armed men. To Lieutenant Sims, "the man of the greatest skill in the American service," was entrusted the command. Sims entered the leading boat, and vanished in the gloom. Whether he had taken all the oars with him, as reported, or whether the furious storm and the sight of the whirling black waters had frozen the hearts of the troops, must remain a mystery. The other boats did not follow. Meanwhile, 350 additional regulars and thirty boats had arrived from Four Mile Creek. Flying artillery came from Fort Niagara, with still more regulars, and part of Smythe's brigade from Buffalo. Troops, as Brock's spies had truly reported, now overflowed the United States army headquarters--three more complete regiments from New York and another from Fort Schlosser. Lewiston bristled with bayonets. The entire expeditionary force was in command of Colonel Solomon Van Rensselaer, a militiaman, between whom and the officers commanding the regular troops much jealousy and great friction existed. Both branches of the service were determined to monopolize whatever credit might ensue. A storm, more furious than ever, prevailed for twenty-eight hours. The men sulked in their tents.