And as the drums rolled out the dismal strain which meant disgrace for him and the blighting of all his hopes, he sat his horse with rigid face and eyes from which all life had fled. He had been taught the lesson of the wilderness.
CHAPTER XVIII
DEFEAT BECOMES DISHONOR
But there was worse to follow, for scarce had the first tap of the drums echoed among the trees, when the mob of regulars became a mere frenzied rabble. The officers tried to withdraw them from the field in some semblance of order, but the men seemed seized with mad, blind, unreasoning terror, and were soon beyond all hope of control. They rushed from the field, sweeping their officers before them, and carrying with them the provincial troops, who would have stood firm and behaved as soldiers should. I was caught in one edge of the mob, as I tried to restrain the men about me, and flung aside against a tree with such force that I stood for a moment dazed by the blow, and then I saw I was beneath the tree where Washington and Braddock sat their horses, watching with grim faces the frenzied crowd sweep past. The soldiers flung away their guns and accoutrements, their helmets, even their coats, that they might flee the faster, and I saw one strike down a young subaltern who tried to stay them. They jostled and fell over one another as sheep pursued by dogs. I saw a horseman, his head bandaged in a bloody cloth, trying to make way toward us against this cursing torrent, and recognized Captain Orme. But he was dashed aside even as I had been, and for a moment I thought he had been torn from his horse and trodden underfoot. Torn from his horse he was, indeed, but escaped the latter fate, for some moments later he came to us on foot through the trees.
"Come, sir," he cried to the general, as he gained his side, "you must leave the field. There is no hope of getting a guard from among these cowards or persuading them to make a stand."
Braddock turned to answer him, but as he did so, threw up his hands and fell forward into the arms of his aide. I sprang to Orme's assistance, and between us we eased him down. His horse, doubtless also struck by a ball, dashed off screaming through the wood.
"They have done for me!" he groaned, as we placed his back against a tree. "Curse them, they have done for me."
Washington, who had left his horse the instant he saw the general fall, knelt and rested the wounded man's head upon his knee, and wiped the bloody foam from off his lips.
"Where are you hit?" he asked.
"Here," and the general raised his left hand and touched his side. "'Tis a mortal hurt, and I rejoice in it. I have no wish to survive this day's disgrace."