More than the rear-guard would have beat a retreat at that moment, but for the fact that the baggage-wagons hemmed us in so that flight was well-nigh impossible.
It seemed as if I lived a full hour during the terrible ten seconds that elapsed after the first volley was fired by the hidden foe, and then I heard Sergeant Corney crying in my ear, his voice sounding as if afar off:
"It is for you an' I, lad, to look after the general! He is wounded!"
Then it was that I realized the commander was pinned to the earth by his dead horse, and, without being really conscious of my movements, I ran to his side.
The old soldier and I had no more than bent over General Herkimer to learn how we could best release him from his dangerous position, when a second volley came from amid the foliage, and those alleged soldiers of the command who were yet alive ran wildly to and fro like frightened chickens, seeking some way of escape, rather than standing up like men to battle for their own lives.
Without really seeing it, I was conscious that all this was taking place around us, and then I heard Sergeant Corney say to the general, in a matter-of-fact tone:
"That's a bad wound in your knee, sir."
"Ay, but there's no time to think of ourselves just now. The cowards must be brought to their senses, or every one of them will be shot down," was the reply of the man whom his own soldiers had taunted with cowardice not an hour previous.
Acting under Sergeant Corney's commands, for the old man was as cool as if he had been born amid just such scenes of carnage, I helped raise the body of the horse until it was possible for General Herkimer to roll himself out from beneath the dead animal, and, while we worked to aid him, the commander was crying to his men to stand firm if they would save their own lives.
"Rally, there!" he shouted, yet lying, unable to move, upon the ground. "Stand firm, and we yet have a good chance of holding our own!"