"You can stay with me, Leon; but first go back to where my horse is lying, and bring here the saddle and the two blankets strapped behind it. I don't feel any pain to speak of, but it seems to me bitterly cold."
The man presently returned with the saddle and blankets. Two others accompanied him. Both had been hit too seriously to continue with the regiment. Their wounds had been already bandaged.
"We thought that we should like to be near you, colonel, if you do not mind."
"Not at all. First, do each of you take a sip at my flask.
"Leon, I wish you would find a few sticks, and try to make a fire. It would be cheerful, although it might not give much warmth."
It was dark now. It was five o'clock when the 3rd division threw itself across Maucune's line of march, and the battle had begun. It was dark long before it ended but, during the three hours it had lasted, the French had lost a marshal, seven generals, and 12,500 men and officers, killed, wounded, or prisoners; while on the British side a field marshal, four generals, and nearly 6000 officers and soldiers were killed or wounded. Indeed, the battle itself was concentrated into an hour's hard fighting; and a French officer, describing it, said that 40,000 men were defeated in forty minutes.
Presently the din of battle died out and, as soon as it did so, Herrara and Ryan both hurried to the side of Terence.
"My dear Terence," Ryan said, dropping on his knees beside him, "this is terrible. When I heard the news I was almost beside myself. As to the men, terrible as their loss is, they talk of no one but you."
"I think I shall pull through all right, Ryan. At any rate, the doctor says he thinks I shall, and I think so myself. I am heartily glad that you and Herrara have gone through it all right. What are our losses?"
"I don't know, yet. We have not had time to count, but not far from half our number. Macwitty is killed, Bull desperately wounded. Fully half the company officers are killed."