Just when everything looked the blackest, however, things changed for the better. The weather suddenly turned unseasonably warm, melting the two streams that converged near Washington’s headquarters. The shad, gulled into thinking spring had arrived in February, started their run upstream to spawn.
Up the Schuylkill River came the fish, their silvery scales flashing in the sunlight. The men plunged into the water, shouting and laughing, pulling out writhing shad by handfuls, armfuls, and shirtfuls. Even the cavalry was called into action, riding horses back and forth across the shallows to herd the fish into the infantry’s waiting hands.
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