Three or four shots greeted us as we emerged from the thick wood.  We, being armed with muskets and pistols as well as swords, returned the fire, and spurred our horses on toward the low breastwork, which, as it was not likely to have anything of a trench behind it, we thought to overleap either on horse or afoot.  But the fire that we met, almost at the very barrier, felled so many of our horses and men, raised such a hellish chorus of wild neighing, cries of pain and wrath, ferocious curses and shouts of vengeance, that the men behind reined up uncertain.  De Lancey turned upon his horse, waved his sword, and shouted for the laggards to come on.  We had only the light of musketry to see by.  Tom Faringfield was unhorsed and down; and fearing he might be wounded, I leaped to the ground, knelt, and partly raised him.  He was unharmed, however; and we both got upon our feet, with our swords out, our discharged muskets slung round upon our backs, our intent being to mount over the rebel’s rude rampart—­for we had got an impression of De Lancey’s sword pointed that way while he fiercely called upon his troops to disregard the fallen, and each man charge for himself in any manner possible, ahorse or afoot.

But more and more of the awakened rebels—­we could make out only their dark figures—­sprang forward from their huts (mere roofs, ’twere better to call these) to the breastwork, each waiting to take careful aim at our mixed-up mass of men and horses before he fired into it.  As Tom and I were extricating ourselves from the mass by scrambling over a groaning man or two, and a shrieking, kicking horse that lay on its side, De Lancey rode back to enforce his commands upon the men at our rear, some of whom were firing over our heads.  His turning was mistaken for a movement of retreat, not only by our men, of whom the unhurt promptly made to hasten down the hill, but also by the enemy, a few of whom now leaped from behind their defence to pursue.

Tom and I, not yet sensible of the action of our comrades, were striding forward to mount the rampart, when this sally of rebels occurred.  Though it appalled us at the time, coming so unexpectedly, it was the saving of us; for it stopped the fire of the rebels remaining behind the barrier, lest they should hit their comrades.  A ringing voice, more potent than a bugle, now called upon these latter to come back, in a tone showing their movement to have been without orders.  They speedily obeyed; all save one, a tall, broad fellow—­nothing but a great black figure in the night, to our sight—­who had rushed with a clubbed musket straight upon Tom and me.  A vague sense of it circling through the air, rather than distinct sight of it, told me that his musket-butt was aimed at Tom’s head.  Instinctively I flung up my sword to ward off the blow; and though of course I could not stop its descent, I so disturbed its direction that it struck only Tom’s shoulder; none the less sending him to the ground