It is time to return more particularly to our friends, who took part
in this hard-fought, glorious action.
By midday the worse part of the battle was over, and although Colonel
Blythe still clung to his Barrier, whence he launched forth small
parties to harass the retreating foe, McKay was released of his
attendance upon the acting brigadier, and suffered to follow his own
general to the rear.
They had carried poor old Wilders in a litter to one of the hospital
marquees in the rear of the Second Division camp. The aide-de-camp
found him perfectly conscious, with two doctors by his side.
McKay was allowed to enter into conversation with his chief.
"How does it go?" asked the old general, feebly, but with eager
interest.
"The enemy are in full retreat, sir; beaten all along the line."
"Thank Heaven!" said the general, as he sank back upon his pillow.
"How are you, sir?"
"Very weak. My fighting days are done."
"You must not say that, sir; the doctors will soon pull you round.
Won't you?" said McKay, looking round at the nearest surgeon's face.
"Of course. I have no fear, provided only the general will keep quiet,
and--"
"That means that I should go," said the aide-de-camp. "I shall be
close at hand, sir, for I mean to be chief nurse," and he left the
tent.
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