Hadley saw the patriot army driven back and as they retreated he observed many of the men weeping like women at the thought of flying before an enemy which they had practically held in check since early morning. Captain Prentice, who had been recklessly courageous during the engagement, was wounded, yet still kept on the firing line with his arm and shoulder swathed in bandages. As they broke into the final disorderly retreat, an aide galloped to the young captain and said a word to him. “Morris!” exclaimed Prentice, “follow this man to Colonel Cadwalader. He wants you. All’s lost here, anyway; there’s nothing more to be done.” Hadley threw down his musket and ran beside the aide’s stirrup along the dusty road for nearly a quarter of a mile before overtaking the group of officers of which Colonel Cadwalader was the centre. The Colonel sat on his horse firmly and, despite the creature’s dancing, was writing rapidly on the pommel of his saddle. “Morris,” he said, scarcely glancing at the youth. “It is over for to-day. You are not kept here with Captain Prentice by any enlistment, I believe?” “No, sir.” “Then you can go back if you wish--you can go home. We shall retreat, and whether His Excellency secures another such chance to meet the enemy soon, we know not. It is an awful thing--an awful thing! But that is not why I called you. There is a fresh horse yonder being held for you. Here branches the road to Philadelphia. You will not be molested, for the British have not yet crossed it--though it’s not sure they’ll not throw a column out between us and the city. “This letter goes to Holdness at the Indian Queen Hotel in Fourth street--anybody will direct you. Then, when it is delivered, you may follow your own wishes, Master Morris,” and the gentleman leaned down and dropped the unsealed note into the boy’s hand with a grave smile. “Leave the horse where you exchanged steeds before on the Germantown pike--you already have a horse there, have you not?” “I left one there, sir.” “Very well. Now, off with you! I shall see you anon--and hear more of you to your credit, I believe,” and with a wave of his hand Colonel Cadwalader dismissed him. Together with the men beside whom he had fought Hadley was nigh heartbroken over the result of the battle. The retreat was almost a rout in some parts of the field. The boy sprang upon the horse held by an orderly, and at once dashed away through the broken lines and soon left the disorganized army behind. It was a bitter hour, and, young as he was, the youth felt it keenly. How would he be greeted in the city toward which he was carrying the news of the battle? He could imagine with what despair the result of the struggle would be received.