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628 came nearer. Bullets began to whistle around the pair, Müller lost heart and beat a retreat, counselling Johanna to follow his example. But she was not so easily terrified. Alone now, she clambered upon the waggon and filled her apron unassisted, carrying it off to augment her store without heeding the more rapid spatter of the leaden hail.

On a sudden, midway with a load, she found herself between two bodies of troops. A light rain falling, the men wore their overcoats, and she was unable to distinguish friend from foe. While hesitating what to do, she was reached by a company of Prussian Jägers, rushing with levelled bayonets to take the French in flank. Johanna ran on a few steps beside the leading officer, asking whether the French would get the town again.

The officer told her gruffly to be off about her business, but added—

“Stop! What have you got there that seems so heavy?”

“Cartridges.”

“Cartridges! And we without a ball! Whence?”

“Out of the waggon, there; and I’ve got a heap more in the ditch behind.”

“Halt, men!” came next, with a mighty Prussian oath.

In a moment four soldiers were emptying Johanna’s apron by their officer’s command, and distributing its contents among their comrades. She hurried on to the ditch amid the hurras of the Jägers, showed them the supply, then ran back to the ammunition-waggon for more. Hotter grows the French fire, but the Prussians respond to it now with cheerfulness and vigour. Grape and round shot begin to take their victims, and let out many a hardy fellow’s life. But Johanna never falters in her self-appointed task. Holding her apron with her teeth, she pushes the cartridges into the breasts of the Jägers’ uniforms to distribute her prizes the quicker. Friends fall beside her, but she never stops. The enemy come closer, but she feels no fear. During one of her trips a Saxon officer gallops out upon her from an adjacent garden with uplifted sabre. Seeing her danger, a Cossack rushes past her with levelled lance, and stretches the Saxon on the ground. The unintelligible jargon of her rescuer first shows the girl the peril she has escaped.

By the aid of the ammunition furnished by Johanna Stegen, the French were kept at a distance until reinforcements could be brought up from within the town. Then, as dusk was drawing in, a combined charge, in which Morand was badly wounded and taken, scattered the assailants irretrievably, and the day was won.

Johanna had been wonderfully preserved in the midst of the dangers to which she was exposed. Her clothes were riddled with bullets. A grapeshot passed through her dress while she was stooping to pick up some fallen cartridges. As she supplied a Jäger with ammunition, the man fell forward, badly hit, into her arms. She carried him to the ditch, tore off her neckerchief to bind his wound, and set out again to the waggon.

After the battle, the Maiden of Lüneburg in her shot-torn clothes, blackened with smoke and powder, was carried in triumph by the townsfolk round the market-place; then she went quietly home to her mother. The old woman scolded her heartily for her imprudence, and having done that much homage to duty, cried over the girl for her patriotism.

Next day, when the Prussian commander inquired after the heroic girl, none of his men knew where she was to be found. One Jäger only was able to describe her appearance, adding that she had red hair. This led to her discovery. For during the next few days there were other duties to perform. Wounded and prisoners had to be nursed, tended, and waited upon; lint was to be furnished, provisions obtained and prepared, a hospital to be extemporised; and Johanna lent eager assistance in these charitable tasks. While occupied among the wounded prisoners, she was noticed by a huge Saxon sergeant. The man’s eyes blazed with fury, and he dashed at her with an imprecation, calling out:

“Here, comrades! This is the devil on whom sixteen of our men spent all their bullets yesterday without hitting her. ’Twas she cost our brave officer his life, for he’d sworn to cut her down.”

The prison-guards came to the rescue, and freed the girl from his grasp.

The troubles of the Maiden of Lüneburg and of her native town were not by any means ended with the French repulse. The day after the engagement the Allies evacuated Lüneburg, and crossed the Elbe to Boitzenburg to give battle to Davoust. The French Marshal declined the engagement, but despatched Montbrun with 6000 men to punish the Lüneburgers. He entered the town late on the night of the 4th, passed the next day in searching for arms, and arrested 106 of the chief citizens. The threatening movements of the Allies compelled Davoust to call in all his strength, and Montbrun left Lüneburg again upon the 9th.

The war went on. The Allies gained a battle upon the 6th of April, but lost another on the 2nd of May, and with it the temporary command of the country. Once more the French re-occupied unfortunate Lüneburg, surrounding it with palisades, deepening the ditches, throwing up earth-works, and barricading the gates, as if they did not intend to be dislodged in a hurry. The invaders instituted a veritable Reign of Terror in the luckless town. One poor girl, suspected as a spy, was scourged to death in the market-place. All citizens and inhabitants thought to be disaffected were imprisoned or fined.

It may be supposed that under such harsh rule the part taken by Johanna Stegen in the repulse of the 2nd of April would not remain unpunished. Her mother kept her carefully concealed in a loft attached to the house, and it was generally believed she was no longer in the town. Constant inquiries and frequent searches proved unavailing for her discovery. Among the few acquainted with her hiding-place was a neighbour, who proposed to Widow Stegen to let Johanna spend the day with his daughter.