An attack was therefore organized to try to rid the place of the pestilent Rangers, as the French called them; whilst, as it so happened, the Rangers had no knowledge of the reinforcements which had come in to the fort.
Rogers' fault was ever a daring rashness, and when one day he and his little band saw the advance of a party of Indians, he drew his men under cover and greeted them with a hot and fatal fire.
But this was only the advance guard.

Unknown and unguessed at by Rogers, the large body behind was approaching, and the next moment the whole place was echoing with triumphant yells, as the pursuing Rangers were met by a compact force outnumbering them by four to one, who sprang furiously upon them, trying to hack them to pieces.
Rogers, gallantly backed by Lord Howe, who had all the instinct of the true general, recalled them hastily and formed them up on the slope of a hill, where they made a gallant stand, and drove back the enemy again and again.

But outnumbered as they were, it was a terrible struggle, and Ranger after Ranger dropped at his post; whilst at last the cry was raised that the foe had surrounded them upon the rear, and nothing was left them but to take to the forest in flight.
"To the woods, men, to the woods!" shouted Rogers.

"Leave me, and every man for himself!" Indeed it was soon impossible for any party to keep together.

It was just one dash from tree to tree for bare life, seeking to evade the wily foe, and seeing brave comrades drop at every turn.
Rogers, Howe, and about twenty fine fellows were making a running fight for it along the crest of the ridge.