"Whoa, January, you old fool!" cried the corporal.
Whiz zip, went a musket ball past his ear, clipping a twig which fell at his feet, and causing January to prance and rear.
"Oh Lordy, I'll be killed, I know I shall! Whoa, January!" and his trembling fingers struggled to unloose the knot of his halter.
Harry Smith, who had fought with desperate bravery, was, with Lieutenant Tompkins, among the last to leave the field. As he was in the act of mounting his horse, he cast a glance down toward the ford, where the mass of Union troops were forming and beheld the Stars and Stripes streaming above the long line of blue coats. Harry turned pale for the first time during the fight. A shock, as of a galvanic battery, seemed to strike his frame.
"Oh! Heavens!" he thought, "why am I in these ranks, a rebel and a traitor, fighting against the best government this world has ever known?"
"Mount quickly, Harry, or we shall be taken," cried Oleah, who was already in the saddle.
Harry sprang into the saddle, and they galloped away after their now flying comrades, the enemy's cavalry pursuing them closely and firing an occasional shot into the retreating ranks, as they rushed and crowded down the road through the lanes and over the hills in the direction of Beverly.
Corporal Diggs finally succeeded in untying the halter-knot, that held January to his post, and after some trouble got into the saddle. The bullets were whistling around his ears, and January was plunging through the underbrush and out into the road, where he struck off in a western direction at a rapid rate. The corporal did not try to restrain him, and they were soon over the hill, three miles away from the battle ground.
"Oh Lordy, I know they are all killed!" murmured the little corporal, looking back as he galloped down the road. For an hour he rode on, in what direction he knew not, but away from both armies. His mind was full of wild fancies. He saw six men coming like the wind down a cross lane, and, although they were a mile or two in his rear, he knew by their dark clothes and bright flashing guns that they were Union cavalry.
"Oh Lordy! I shall be killed, I know," he thought, as he used whip and spur, crying: "Get up, January! Oh! for the Lord's sake, run!"
