Guns for General Washington by Seymour Reit Page A

Carefully, foot by slow foot, the sled moved across the frozen river. Sweating in spite of the cold, Henry talked to the horses, coaxing them. William bit his lip anxiously. J. P. Becker held his breath. The sled passed the halfway mark and drew near the far shore. In a few more minutes—though it seemed like hours to the men—the gun was across and the horses scrambled to safety.
    Henry hopped down and joyously waved his hat Will and the others cheered wildly and hurried to get the next sled ready. Then, one by one, horses and oxen—tethered to the long taut rope—hauled the cargo across. And every step of the way, the man with the axe stood ready in case of danger.
    The river passage took all afternoon. Finally every load was across the Mohawk except for three cannons—the heaviest of all. These were Henry’s pride and joy, the most important of his weapons, and he wanted to be sure they would make it across safely. So he had fresh holes chopped along the route. In the gathering darkness, river water gushed from the holes and swept across the ice.
    â€œBy morning the new layer should be frozen fine,” Henry said to Will. “Then we’ll try crossing the big guns.”
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    That night, after supper and hot coffee brewed over the campfire, the men sat around smoking their pipes and staring into the flames. One of the soldiers took a wooden fife from his tunic and began to play softly. J. P., sitting with a warm blanket around his shoulders, recognized the tune. The “Liberty Song” was a great favorite among the colonists; in fact, some thought of it as their new anthem. A few troopers began to sing, and the boy listened happily to the stirring words:
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Come join hand in hand, brave Americans all,
And rouse your bold hearts at fair Liberty’s call;
No tyrannous acts shall suppress your just claim,
Or stain with dishonor America’s name . . .
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    As the sound of the fife slid into the chorus, others added their voices:
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In Freedom we’re born
And in Freedom we’ll live.
Our hearts are ready,
Steady, friends, steady—
Not as slaves but as Freemen
Our strength we will give!
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    The campfire blazed in the night air. Orange flames leaped high into the black sky, their brightness echoing the bright hopes of a country struggling to be born.
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    At daybreak the men prepared for the test. The first of the huge guns, hauled by four pair of oxen, was eased carefully onto the frozen river. The ice creaked and cracked as if complaining about its burden. But the extra thickness worked. The surface held.
    When this gun was across, the second cannon was moved without incident. Finally there was only the twenty-four-pounder left. This was Will’s gun, and he wouldn’t allow anyone else to take it across. He climbed aboard the sled and guided the oxen out onto the ice. The creaking sounds grew louder and more menacing. Will sat tensely, hardly daring to breathe. The axe man, walking alongside, looked nervous and tested the sharpness of his blade.
    The oxen passed the halfway point Slowly, they inched closer and closer to the far shore. Henry started to breathe a sigh of relief.
    Crack! Crack!
    The noise came sharp and loud, almost like gunfire. A great black gap opened in the ice. Will jumped from the sled. The axe man leaped forward, swung his blade, and parted the rope. As the gun went under, the oxen, suddenly free of their load, reacted with fear. They lunged forward, trying to reach safety. J. P.’s father, who was standing nearby, dove at the harness to keep the clumsy animals under control. He was yanked forward, where he tripped over a tree root and fell to the ground.
    The old farmer lay on the frozen shore, holding his shoulder and gasping. J. P. rushed over, his face pale with alarm.
    A soldier who had been trained as a medical orderly also hurried over. He knelt down and examined the groaning man.
    â€œIt’s