Provost Guard had turned the tide of
stragglers now, letting through only the wounded and the teams.
But across the open fields wreckage from the battle was streaming
in every direction; and so stupid and bewildered with fear were
some of the fugitives that McDunn's battery had to cease its fire
for a time, while the officers ran forward through the smoke,
shouting and gesticulating to warn the mass of skulkers out of the
way.

And now a fearful uproar of artillery arose immediately to the
west, shells began to rain in the river woods, then shrapnel, then,
in long clattering cadence, volley succeeded volley, faster,
faster, till the outcrash became one solid, rippling roar.

Far to the west across the country the Lancers saw regiments
passing forward through the trees at a quick-step; saw batteries
galloping hither and thither, aides-de-camp and staff-officers
racing to and fro at full speed.

The 3rd Zouaves rose from the clover, shouldered muskets, and moved
forward on a run; a staff-officer wheeled out of the road, jumped
his horse over the culvert, and galloped up to Colonel Arran. And
the next moment the Lancers were in the saddle and moving at a trot
out toward the left of McDunn's battery.

They stood facing the woods, lances poised, for about ten minutes,
when a general officer with dragoon escort came galloping down the
road and through the meadow toward McDunn's battery. It was
Claymore, their general of brigade.

"Retire by prolonge!" he shouted to the battery commander, pulling
in his sweating horse. "We've got to get out of this!" And to
Colonel Arran, who had ridden up, flushed and astonished: "We've
got to leave this place," he repeated shortly. "They're driving
the Zouaves in on us."

All along the edge of the woods the red breeches of the Zouaves
were reappearing, slowly retreating in excellent order before
something as yet unseen. The men turned every few paces to fire by
companies, only to wheel again, jog-trot toward the rear, halt,
load, swing to deliver their fire, then resume their jogging
retreat.

Back they fell, farther, farther, while McDunn's battery continued
to fire and retire by prolonge, and the Lancers, long weapons
disengaged, accompanied them, ready to support the guns in an
emergency.

The emergency seemed very near. Farther to the left a blue
regiment appeared enveloped in spouting smoke, fairly hurled bodily
from the woods; Egerton's 20th Dragoons came out of a c