After seeing enough of it, I ran out again into the street, sore bestead, indeed, to know what I should do.  Day was beginning to break, and in the gray dawn I saw the men ejected from the church running hither and thither, trying to rejoin their officers.  And, there being neither standards nor drums to collect by, the sergeants stood at divers points shouting at the top of their voices the number and letter of their companies, and calling the fugitives to come into ranks.  Minie-balls whizzed about in the air or knocked up the dust from the street, and firing was now and then heard near by in uncertain directions, where perhaps the enemy were vexing our pickets.  I believe it had been a helter-skelter day for us all, had the enemy got in then and attacked us in the midst of this confusion.  They might surely have driven us into irretrievable rout, flying on the road to Rivas, by a spirited charge of fifty good men, or much less.

Whilst I stood in doubt what course to take, I saw our captain, followed by three or four of the company, looking over the ground for the missing, and I forthwith made up and joined him.  Others came in, one by one; and at length, the foot being gathered together in the adobes, and things brought to order outside, the captain led his company into the church.  General Walker was still there, talking earnestly with Sanders and Waters, having cleared the church of the fugitives.  As we approached, he asked the captain, who by this time had emptied his canteen of aguardiente, how many of his men were killed.  The captain began cursing the foot, and telling how he had been run over, having tried to stand,—­and would have made a long talc, but Colonel Waters touched him on the shoulder, and said in undertone,—­“Lead your company off.  You are too drunk to talk now.”

Our post thenceforward was at the several doors of the church, where we kept guard for the wounded, who lay about the floor in miserable plight for lack of water.  Outside, drop-shooting was still kept up by the enemy in the bushes, and returned by ours from the doors.

It was an ill-looking situation for our small, panic-shaken party, resting here within pistol-shot of an overwhelming and victorious enemy.  The enemy’s respect for us was too great and unreasonable.  It behooved them certainly, as honest soldiers, to come forth now and drive us out of their town, in which, I think, if well commenced, there had been but little difficulty.  Afterwards, indeed, when I was amongst them in Costa Rica, they declared concerning this affair that they knew we were in their power then, but refrained because they were unwilling to shed more filibuster blood, preferring rather to conquer us by proclamation, and send us back to our homes unhurt,—­more expensive, to be sure, but recommended by humanity.  Yet I laugh at this when I remember how they crept snake-like in the bushes, and tried to pick us off at the doors, and how they strove, without much danger to themselves,