While his chief talked thus to Rakoczy, Stephen came to me.
In the struggle he had not received a scratch; but it was different with me, and my brother's face looked very grave.
"It's all right, old fellow," I said, trying to speak lightly. "Not one of these cuts is really dangerous. I'm only a little faint through loss of blood. A night's rest will put me straight."
He shook my hand warmly and followed his chief, but I noticed that more than once he turned and looked back sorrowfully.
The combat, which had lasted for six hours, now ceased on the two wings, but continued in the centre with unabated fury.
There the great guns were massed, and the veterans of both armies strove, the one party to oust its opponents, the other to maintain its position.
The guns roared, sheets of flame sprang from their muzzles, shot and shell tore, screaming, through the air. Occasionally what appeared a solid body of living fire shot skyward, accompanied by a loud report, as a powder-tumbrel was struck by one of the flying missiles.
Then for a time everything would be hidden by a dense bank of smoke, and we waited breathlessly to see it lift. But though human courage may be inexhaustible, there is a limit to human endurance; and at last, as if by common consent, both sides ceased to struggle.
"A drawn battle," said Rakoczy, "and I don't think we've had the worst of it. George, you'd better find a surgeon and have those wounds dressed. We shall have to fight again in the morning."
As I had told Stephen, my hurts were not dangerous, and directly the surgeon had bound them up I returned to the front.