nine o'clock
Before we moved a mile my horse became so lame , I was obliged to dismount , and proceed on foot . Never have I experienced a hotter sun , or more sultry air . It was as though we were within a furnace ; men struggled for breath , not a few dropped exhausted , the others straggling grimly forward , their faces streaked with dust and perspiration , their saturated clothing clinging to their bodies . Under these conditions rapid marching was impossible , yet by nine o'clock we had passed the Freehold Meeting House , and were halted in the protection of a considerable wood , the men dropping to the ground in the grateful shadow . Maxwell came along back of our line , his horse walking slowly , as the general mopped his streaming red face . He failed to recognize me among the others until I stepped out into the boiling sun , and spoke : `` What is that firing to the right , General ? Are the Jersey militia in action ? ''