Before the astounded Commander could leap from the porch to his horse the flying stragglers of his shattered right were pouring into view—men, wagons, ambulances, in utter confusion. Hooker swung his old division under General Berry into line and shouted to his veterans:
"Forward with the bayonet!"
The sturdy division plowed its way through the receding blue waves of panic-stricken men and dashed into the face of the overwhelming hosts.
Major Keenan, in command of the 8th Pennsylvania Cavalry, charged with his gallant five hundred into the face of almost certain death and held the grey lines in check until the artillery of the Third Corps was saved and turned on the advancing Confederates. He fell at the head of his men.
The fighting now became a battle. It was no longer a rout.
Ned saw a lone deaf man in blue standing bareheaded, fighting a whole army so intent on his work he hadn't noticed that his regiment had retreated and left him.
Two men in grey raised their muskets and fired point blank at this man at the same instant. The unconscious hero fell.
"I hit him!" cried one.
"No, I hit him!" said the other.
And they both rushed up and tenderly offered him help.