to break off.  He gulped down another glass of wine and went on with his narrative in disjointed, incomplete sentences.  It kept growing darker and darker, until there was only a narrow streak of red light on the horizon at the verge of the battlefield; the shadows of the dead horses seemed to be projected across the plain to an infinite distance.  The pain and stiffness in his leg kept him from moving; he must have remained for a long time beside Zephyr.  Then, with his fears as an incentive, he had managed to get on his feet and hobble away; it was an imperative necessity to him not to be alone, to find comrades who would share his fears with him and make them less.  Thus from every nook and corner of the battlefield, from hedges and ditches and clumps of bushes, the wounded who had been left behind dragged themselves painfully in search of companionship, forming when possible little bands of four or five, finding it less hard to agonize and die in the company of their fellow-beings.  In the wood of la Garenne Prosper fell in with two men of the 43d regiment; they were not wounded, but had burrowed in the underbrush like rabbits, waiting for the coming of the night.  When they learned that he was familiar with the roads they communicated to him their plan, which was to traverse the woods under cover of the darkness and make their escape into Belgium.  At first he declined to share their undertaking, for he would have preferred to proceed direct to Remilly, where he was certain to find a refuge, but where was he to obtain the blouse and trousers that he required as a disguise? to say nothing of the impracticability of getting past the numerous Prussian pickets and outposts that filled the valley all the way from la Garenne to Remilly.  He therefore ended by consenting to act as guide to the two comrades.  His leg was less stiff than it had been, and they were so fortunate as to secure a loaf of bread at a farmhouse.  Nine o’clock was striking from the church of a village in the distance as they resumed their way.  The only point where they encountered any danger worth mentioning was at la Chapelle, where they fell directly into the midst of a Prussian advanced post before they were aware of it; the enemy flew to arms and blazed away into the darkness, while they, throwing themselves on the ground and alternately crawling and running until the fire slackened, ultimately regained the shelter of the trees.  After that they kept to the woods, observing the utmost vigilance.  At a bend in the road, they crept up behind an out-lying picket and, leaping on his back, buried a knife in his throat.  Then the road was free before them and they no longer had to observe precaution; they went ahead, laughing and whistling.  It was about three in the morning when they reached a little Belgian village, where they knocked up a worthy farmer, who at once opened his barn to them; they snuggled among the hay and slept soundly until morning.