In this case the task was comparatively light, for there were very few dead, and of the wounded, fully one-half were able to limp slowly back toward the Hall, the troops remaining to cover them till they had reached one of the great barns which was set apart for the temporary hospital.
To the credit of all concerned, be it said that, principally due to the action of Sir Godfrey Markham, who was in command of the two regiments which had routed the late occupants of the Hall, the wounded were treated as wounded men, no distinction being made as to whether they were Cavalier or Roundhead.
All this took some time, and at last Scarlett rode up to where his father was standing among a group of dismounted officers, whose followers were letting their tired steeds crop the grass in the same way as that practised by their enemies, when one of the outposts came galloping in with news which sent the Cavaliers once more into their saddles, when lines were formed, and Sir Godfrey gave the order to advance.
“Could you hear what he said?” whispered Scarlett to Nat, who was close behind him.
“Coming back, sir, three times as strong,” whispered Nat. “Means another fight.”
The hurried orders and the excitement displayed on the part of the officers endorsed Nat’s words; though, had there been any doubt, the summons Scarlett had to his father’s side cleared it away at once.
“Listen, my boy,” said the general, as Scarlett cantered up; “the enemy are upon us, and we shall perhaps have to retreat, for, jaded as we are, they will be too much for us. Be cautious, and don’t let your men get out of hand through rashness. We must give way as they did to-day.”
“Run, father?”
“No; bend back right to the earth if necessary, so that the rebound may be the stronger. Now, to your place.”
As Scarlett regained his troop, the young officer over him was talking loudly to his men.