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Atherton, Gertrude Franklin Horn, 1857-1948

"The Conqueror"

He's like to burst with importance because he leads and we
follow. He's a brave little chap, but such a bantam one must laugh.
Well, I hate to leave you here, the very last man to be made a target
of. You won't be rash?" he added anxiously.
"No, granny," said Hamilton, whose gaiety had revived as he heard of
Troup's safety. "And I'd not exchange my position for any."
"Good-by."
Handshakes in those days were solemn. Fish feared that he never should
see Hamilton again, and his fear was close to being realized.
It was a long, hot, dusty, miserable march; some lay down by the wayside
and died. Hamilton had been bred in the heat of the Tropics, but he had
ridden always, and to-day he was obliged to trudge the thirteen miles on
foot. He had managed to procure horses for his guns and caissons, but
none for himself and his officers.
It was on the Hoagland farm at the junction of the Kingsbridge and
Bloomingdale roads that a serious skirmish occurred, and Hamilton and
his men stood the brunt of it. The tired column was almost through the
pass, when a detachment of British light infantry suddenly appeared on
the right.


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