The words had hardly left his lips when a tremendous explosion threw both speaker and hearers to the ground. Gabriel and Captain Nevill escaped unhurt, and were soon on their feet again, eagerly bending over the prostrate form of the General, while others rushed to the yet more terribly injured Major Sheldon, and lifted aside the bodies of those who had been actually killed.
“There is life in him yet,” said Captain Nevill, with his fingers on the General’s pulse.
“Yes,” said Gabriel, “but there won’t be long, unless we can check this. Quick! off with your scarf, sir, and bind it about his arm while I hold the artery.”
“I’ faith, sir, you’re as good as a leech,” said the Royalist Captain, unable even at that moment of anxiety to forbear a glance at the strangely attractive face of Waller’s envoy.
“A poor substitute, but the son of a physician,” said Gabriel, deftly guiding the rather clumsy efforts of Captain Nevill.
A moan from Hopton brought a look of relief to both his helpers.
“Who is it?” he groaned; “what hath chanced?”
“A powder-waggon accidentally exploded, sir,” said Captain Nevill.
“I can’t hear a word,” moaned Hopton; “it hath deafened and blinded me. Let the troops fall back on Marshfield.”
But here the agony becoming unbearable he lost consciousness, and naught remained for his saddened followers but to obey those last words, and carry him from the battle-field.