It was a desperate adventure, for what could six thousand worn and
weary men do against twenty thousand already conscious of success?
The British fought with dogged courage. Chafing with impatience
Arnold watched the battle from the heights. He saw how an attack
might be made with advantage, how victory might be won. At length
he could bear inaction no longer, and, leaping on to his horse, he
dashed into the fray.
"Go after that fellow and bring him back," shouted Gates; "he will
be doing something rash."
The messenger sped after him. But Arnold was too quick, and the battle
was well nigh won before Gates' order reached him. As Arnold came
his men gave a ringing cheer, and for the rest of the day he and
Daniel Morgan were the leaders of the battle, Gates never leaving
his headquarters.
Where the bullets flew thickest, there Arnold was to be found. The
madness of battle was upon him, and, like one possessed, he rode
through flame and smoke, his clear voice raised above the hideous
clamour, cheering and directing his men.
The fight was fierce and long, but as the day wore on there could
be no more doubt about the end. The British were defeated. Yet so
long as daylight lasted they fought on.
Just as the sun was setting Arnold and his men had routed a party
of Germans, and a wounded German, lying on the ground, shot at
Arnold, killing his horse and shattering his leg - the same leg
which had been wounded at Quebec.
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