judgment failed him and he did not realize the great peril until his little band was hemmed in on all sides by overwhelming numbers and retreat to the mountains was impossible. His detachments, widely separated, stood at their posts with a courage never surpassed in the annals of warfare. One by one they fell before the volleys pouring in upon them from every side. We hear of Edwin Coppoc standing at his post at the armory gates, while balls rained around him like hailstones. Soon after he joined Brown at the engine house and the siege began. Watson and Oliver, sons of the leader, were mortally wounded, but the heroic Watson fought on to the last. John Brown, his son Watson, Jerry Anderson, Edwin Coppoc, Dauphin A. Thompson, Steward Taylor and Shields Green were now the only survivors left on the Virginia side. Escape was impossible, and they determined to die fighting, knowing that no mercy would be shown them as prisoners. Col. Robert E. Lee, who was now in command of their assailants, sent a message to Brown demanding his surrender.
“No!” said Brown, “we prefer to die here.”
Firing began again on both sides, while Lee formed a column for assault.
Few know how near the coming Southern Confederacy came to losing its greatest military leader at this moment at the hands of an Iowa boy. Edwin Coppoc saw from his port-hole the blue uniform of the commander and instantly drew a deadly bead on Lee at close range. Jesse W. Graham, one of Brown’s prisoners, who was watching Coppoc, knew Lee and saw his danger. Instantly springing forward he caught the rifle before Coppoc could fire and during the struggle Lee stepped out of range, and so lived to strike the deadliest blow against his country that it ever encountered. Had Coppoc’s bullet gone to its brilliant mark, a hundred thousand lives of American soldiers might have been spared.
When the shock of the final charge came Brown, Ander-
