On the 29th of September we had another general engagement. We turned out at the break of day, and had a great deal of very heavy firing. The Light Company was extended under a wall of the breastworks; and we kept up a strong fire for seven hours, never shifting our position. The Tachedores of the enemy were very numerous, and very close to us; if we had thrown a stone we could have struck them with it. Captain Mitchell had been speaking to me respecting the engagement; he was appointed from the colonel to take the command of the company, as the captain was not well enough to attend, owing to the wounds he had received through both calves of his legs. I fired sixty-three rounds, and, while loading the sixty-fourth, I got a severe wound through the groin. I fired the sixty-fourth round, but, while loading the sixty-fifth round, I felt quite exhausted, and fell up against the wall. The captain said, “You are wounded, Knight.” I hobbled away to the rear as well as I could. I had about half a mile to go. I was very much exhausted as I crawled, or rather hobbled, along on one leg, the other hanging down useless. On getting into the entrance of the town, I saw a troop of cavalry sitting on their horses--in a little lane off the main road. The officer rode over to me and said something in Portuguese that I did not understand. In the meantime, while I was sitting down talking to him as well as I could, a muleteer came along; the officer spoke to him, and he lifted me on a mule and took me to the General Hospital, where I lay seven hours during that day before the ball was extracted.