well-nigh impossible.

It seemed as if I lived a full hour during the terrible ten seconds that
elapsed after the first volley was fired by the hidden foe, and then I
heard Sergeant Corney crying in my ear, his voice sounding as if afar off:

"It is for you an' I, lad, to look after the general! He is wounded!"

Then it was that I realized the commander was pinned to the earth by his
dead horse, and, without being really conscious of my movements, I ran to
his side.

The old soldier and I had no more than bent over General Herkimer to learn
how we could best release him from his dangerous position, when a second
volley came from amid the foliage, and those alleged soldiers of the
command who were yet alive ran wildly to and fro like frightened chickens,
seeking some way of escape, rather than standing up like men to battle for
their own lives.

Without really seeing it, I was conscious that all this was taking place
around us, and then I heard Sergeant Corney say to the general, in a
matter-of-fact tone:

"That's a bad wound in your knee, sir."

"Ay, but there's no time to think of ourselves just now. The cowards must
be brought to their senses, or every one of them will be shot down," was
the reply of the man whom his own soldiers had taunted with cowardice not
an hour previous.