glorious war.” The noble bearing of these gallant knights, the curveting of their fiery steeds, the tinkling of the little bells on their heels, were all calculated to inspire pride and hope in the bosoms of the friends who had sent them forth on this expedition.
The old proverb, that “you can’t catch a weasel asleep,” was verified in this instance. Brown was apprised of their approach, and was ready to receive this warlike demonstration. The assailants had made a reconnoissance of Brown’s camp, and thereupon had resolved to attack with both cavalry and infantry, so a number had dismounted and fastened their horses to contiguous saplings, just inside of Brown’s pickets. The cavalry were to move forward and attack the tent and wagons, where it was supposed, as no one was seen around the camp, the game was asleep, capture all they could, while the infantry stood ready to shoot down any fugitives who might endeavor to escape. “Forward!” shouted the leader of the horse, and a slight movement forward was made. “Halt!” said Brown’s men, as they arose from the bush where they had been concealed, and closing in upon their assailants, shouted aloud, “Dismount and throw down your arms or you will be shot down in a moment.” This sudden and unexpected change in the programme seemed for a moment to bewilder the assailants, and to throw them into a panic, for the order to ground their arms was instantly obeyed by the infantry, when the cavalry, realizing the condition of things, began to think, like Falstaff, “discretion was the better part of valor,” and, applying their spurs energetically to their steeds, turned and fled ingloriously, leaving their friends to get out of the scrape as best they could. These latter were, all but one, taken prisoners by Brown’s party. This one, seeing the black soldiers about to surround him, and finding that he was
