All through the dreary afternoon the fight goes on. The snow is crimsoned with blood. The killed and mortally wounded lie where they fall. For the Rangers there is no escape; they must conquer or die.
The shades of night steal on; the fire of the French and Indians has been growing less; the war-whoop dies away; the last gun is fired. The enemy, picking up their wounded, retire to Ticonderoga, leaving the Rangers victors. What a dear-bought victory!--one-half of them killed or wounded. Of the enemy one hundred and sixteen have fallen!
The Rangers were only four miles from Ticonderoga, and might expect to be attacked again in the morning. They were forty miles from Fort William Henry. They were weary and worn, but they must move on. They made litters for the wounded, and started, marching all night, but making only a few miles.
The snow had ceased, the air was chill. They must have help. John Stark, leaving them, started for Fort William Henry, reaching it at sunset. Soldiers with horses and sleds started at once, and John Stark with them, stopping not a moment to rest his weary limbs. At sunrise he was back to the Rangers with the re-enforcements and supplies. The French had not followed them, and they made their way safely back to Fort William Henry, having fought one of the most obstinate, unequal, yet victorious battles recorded in history.
There was something rather queer about the Lilly family. In the first place there were so many of them--fourteen precious children. This alone is queer, when it is the fashion of the day to have small families, and "well-springs of pleasure" are as scarce as diamonds in any properly regulated household. But Mrs. Lilly's heart was made on the omnibus plan; and there was no miserable little "Complet" ever scrawled over its door.
Then it was queer how they avoided nicknames in the Lilly family. Each child was called by its full name, which sometimes happened to be a pretty long one.
It was through a sad accident that one of the Lilly children turned into a regular little angel.
The day after Christmas Mrs. Lilly's aunt--grandaunt of the children--carelessly allowed poor Katharine Kirk Lilly to fall on a marble floor. A serious injury to her spine was the result.