“You will perceive,” said I to Captain Jervis, “that our people have not yet retired for the night.” He laughed a little, though on the wrong side of his mouth. I could see that he felt chagrin, and so I said no more on that point. As if by concert our sharpshooters also pushed up closer, and being so much better at that business drove in those of Burgoyne. The Germans, in particular, knowing but little of forests, fared badly. Though I was neither in it nor of it, I felt much elation at our little triumph. In truth the consequences, if not important of themselves, were significant of greater things. They showed that Burgoyne’s beleaguered battalions could rest hope only on two things, the arrival of Clinton or victory in a pitched battle. But now Burgoyne could not even protect his own camp. It was reached in many parts by the fire of the sharpshooters drawn in a deadly ring around it. The night came, and as far as possible the lights in the camp were put out, but the firing went on, and no British sentinel was safe at his post. CHAPTER IX. MY GUIDE. I remember no night in which I saw more misery. The sharpshooters never slept, and the dark seemed to profit them as much as the day. They enveloped the British camp like a swarm of unseen bees, all the more deadly because no man knew where they hovered nor whence nor when the sting would come. Men brave in the day are less brave at night, and every British officer I saw looked worn, and fearful of the future. I confess that I began to grow anxious on my own account, for in this darkness my old Continentals could not serve as a warning that I was no proper target. I have always preserved a high regard for the health and welfare of Richard Shelby, Esq., and I withdrew him farther into the camp. There I saw many wounded and more sick, and but scant means for their treatment. Moreover, the list of both was increasing, and even as I wandered about, the fresh-wounded were taken past me, sometimes crying out in their pain. There were many who took no part in the fighting--Tories who had come to the British camp with their wives and little children, and the wives of the English and Hessian officers who had come down from Canada with them, expecting a march of glory and triumph to New York. For these I felt most sorrow, as it is very cruel that women and children should have to look upon war. More than once I heard the lamentations of women and the frightened weeping of little children. Sometimes the flaring torches showed me their scared faces. These non-combatants, in truth, were beyond the range of the fire, but the wounded men were always before them.