"Vanished. Beaten off by numbers, I expect. We shall have those lancers gliding amongst us soon; but come and lie down behind a tree for a while. The two hours are nearly up, and we shall be moving."
"No, I shall be all right; but isn't that a cloud of fog?"
"It is, my boy--the jolliest fog you've ever seen, and just in the nick of time. That will stop the Austrians better than a thousand bayonets. Well, if you won't lie down, you won't.--My lads, I don't think Captain Botskay's company need hang their heads when the battle of Kapolna is mentioned;" and he went on his way, carrying encouragement to every part of the line.
Rakoczy had blessed the fog; and, indeed, it proved of the utmost service to us.
Without our knowing it, the situation had become critical. The friendly hussars had been compelled to retreat; the Austrian lancers were working round our left; the Croats, mad for vengeance, were clamouring to be led to the attack; and two light batteries had been pushed up to shell us from the wood.
At the very first discharge of the cannons, Rakoczy retired the greater part of the regiment, confident that the enemy would not attack for some time.
My company was left to further the deception, and between the discharges of the big guns the men kept up a vigorous musketry fire, which, though it did little or no damage, warned the enemy we were still in our places.
It was gloomy work standing there in the thick fog, while the shot and shell screaming over our heads lopped the branches from the trees or tore great holes in the ground. Occasionally a man would sink with a deep groan, but for the most part we were untouched; and when at length the colonel sent us word to withdraw, we were able to carry off all our wounded.
The fog by now had become so thick that we could not see the trees, though we felt them frequently; but out of the wood the marching was easier.
We tramped on in the midst of the darkness like a regiment of lost souls.