“The regulars understand that; it is what makes them formidable; it is what preserves them individually, and every man knows it.  The regulars don’t run; it happens to be contrary to their traditions; but those traditions originated less in sentiment than in plain common-sense.”

He turned his horse and walked the animal slowly along the lines.

“I am exceedingly gratified by the conduct of this regiment,” he said.  “You have done all that has been asked of you.  To do more than is asked of you is not commendable in a soldier, though it may display individual courage. . . .  The carbineer, Burgess, 10th troop, Captain Hallam, was foolhardy to attempt the bridge without orders. . . .  The lancer, Ormond, 10th troop, Captain Hallam, however, did his full duty—­admirably—­when he faced death to rescue a wounded comrade from the flames. . . .  In England a Victoria Cross is given for deeds of this kind.  The regiment respects him—­and respects itself. . . .  I care to believe that there is not one officer or trooper in my command who is not ready to lay down his life for a friend. . . .  I am happy in the consciousness that it is not courage which is lacking in this command; it is only experience.  And that will come; it came with the shells on the slope yonder.  There is no more severe test of a regiment’s discipline than to endure the enemy’s fire without being able to retaliate.”

The regiment’s eyes were fastened on their colonel’s tall heavy figure as he walked his powerful horse slowly to and fro along their front, talking to them in his calm, passionless manner.  Strained muscles and tense nerves relaxed; breath came more regularly and naturally; men ventured to look about them more freely, to loosen the spasmodic grip on curb and snaffle, to speak to comrades in low tones, inquiring what damage other troops had sustained.

The regular cavalry of the 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.