Their call was responded to, not only by the whole constabulary force (eight men), but by a numerous body of citizens, who had become alarmed at the prospect of a riot.

This formidable array brought us to our senses: we began to think that maybe discretion was the better part of valor.

General Harris and General Ames, with their respective staffs, held a council of war in the hospital, and a backward movement was decided on.

So, after one grand farewell volley, we fled, sliding, jumping, rolling, tumbling down the quarry at the rear of the fort, and escaped without losing a man.
But we lost Fort Slatter forever.

Those battle-scarred ramparts were razed to the ground, and humiliating ashes sprinkled over the historic spot, near which a solitary lynx-eyed policeman was seen prowling from time to time during the rest of the winter.
The event passed into a legend, and afterwards, when later instances of pluck and endurance were spoken of, the boys would say, "By golly! You ought to have been at the fights on Slatter's Hill!".