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"Now, aim low and fire!" from McGlassin, and the rattle of the Yankee guns was followed by reeling ranks of red in the oaks. "Charge!" shouted the British officer and the red-coats charged to the bridge, but the fire from the embankment was incessant; the trail of the charging men was cluttered with those who fell.

On the ninth it was nearly ready for bloody work, and would probably begin next morning. That night, however, an extraordinary event took place, and showed how far from terror-palsy were the motley troops in Plattsburg. A sturdy Vermonter, named Captain McGlassin, got permission of Malcomb to attempt a very Spartan sortie. He called for fifty volunteers to go on a most hazardous enterprise.

His comrades came to sit beside him; Seymour, the sprinter, as merry a soul as ever hankered for the stage and the red cups of life; Fiske, the silent, and McGlassin, too, with his dry, humorous talk; these were the bright and funny hours. There were others.

Then Rolf took counsel with McGlassin, told him all about the affair at the mill, and McGlassin with a heart worthy of his mighty shoulders, entered into the spirit of the situation, went to General Macomb presenting such a tale and petition that six hours later Francis bearing a passport through the lines was trudging away to Canada, paroled for the rest of the war.