"Go tell McClernand," said Grant, "that he has done well, but he must hold out just a little longer. Wallace will be here shortly."
General Hurlbut, his face black with the smoke of battle, rode up. "General," he said, in a broken voice, "my division is gone, the whole left is gone; the way to the Landing is open to the enemy."
"General," replied Grant, without a quiver, "rally what broken regiments and stragglers you can behind the guns, close up as much as possible on McClernand, and hold your position to the last man."
Now there came roaring past a confused mass of white-faced officers and soldiers commingled, a human torrent stricken with deadly fear.
"All is lost! All is lost!" they cry. "Prentiss and Wallace have surrendered."
Grant's face was seen to twitch. "Oh, for Lew Wallace, for Nelson, or for night," he groaned.
From across the river there came to his ears the sound of cheering. Grant looked, and there among the trees he saw the banners of Nelson's regiments waving.
Hope came into his eyes; his face lighted up.
"Go, go!" he cried to his aids, "go to Sherman, to McClernand, to Hurlbut. Tell them to hold! hold! hold! Help is near."
But if Grant had known it the danger had already passed; for Beauregard had given orders for his army to cease fighting. Night was coming on, the capture of W. H. L. Wallace's and Prentiss' divisions had disarranged his lines, and thinking that he was sure of his prey in the morning, he had given orders to withdraw.