Parties were organised by every regiment, with stretchers and
water-bottles, to go over the field, to carry back the wounded to the
coast, and afford what help they could. The Royal Picts, like the
rest, hasten to send assistance to their stricken comrades. The
bandsmen, who had taken no part in the action, were detailed for the
duty, and the sergeant-major, at his own earnest request, was put in
charge.
As they were on the point of marching off, General Wilders rode up. He
had been separated, it will be remembered, from part of his brigade,
and had still but a vague idea of how it had fared in the fight.
"I saw nothing of you, colonel, during the action. Worse luck I went
with the wrong lot, on the right of the village."
"It is well some of the regiment escaped what we went through," said
Colonel Blythe, sadly. "My left wing was nearly cut to pieces. I was
never under such a fire."
"How many have you lost, do you suppose?"
"We are now mustering the regiment: a sorrowful business enough. Seven
officers are missing."
"What are their names?"
"Popham, Smart, Drybergh, Arrowsmith--"
"Anastasius--my young cousin--is he safe?" hastily interrupted the
general.
Colonel Blythe shook his head.
"I missed him half way up the hill; he was carrying the regimental colour,
but when we got into the battery it was in the sergeant-major's hands.
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