"I must be going now, Steve," said the colonel, buckling on his sword, "but I will see you when the fight is over, if I live." Colonel Tompkins mounted his horse, and took his place at the head of his regiment. The order had been extended along the entire line to advance, Abner was ordered forward to support a battery on the extreme right, which was being thrown forward to drive a body of the enemy out of the woods. The battery unlimbered when within point-blank range, and, after the first three or four rounds, the enemy fell back. As the order to advance had been countermanded, the intrepid young colonel pushed his forces to the edge of the wood, pouring in a galling fire on the enemy. By this time the Eleventh Corps, to which Abner's regiment belonged, was fiercely engaged. The enemy poured forth twenty thousand strong and hurled themselves on the Eleventh, which was composed in great part of raw recruits. The attack was fierce, and the Eleventh, being somewhat taken by surprise, were soon forced to fall back. Colonel Tompkins' regiment had advanced three or four hundred yards beyond the main body of troops, and the falling back of the corps was not noticed until the enemy had them almost surrounded and were pouring in showers of grape and canister, while the face of the earth seemed ablaze with musketry. "Colonel," cried the adjutant, galloping up to Col. Tompkins, "that infernal Eleventh is routed. They are in flight." Abner's glance swept over the field. He was loth to give up the ground he had won, but they were almost surrounded. Things looked desperate. They must cut their way through and fly with the others or surrender. Rising in his stirrups, and waving his sword, the colonel shouted in thunder tones which were heard by the entire regiment: "Yonder is our army. To remain here is death. Cut your way through, every man for himself!" A wild cry went up, and the retreat commenced. As the colonel resumed his seat in his saddle a shell exploded in his horse's face, and, with one wild plunge, rider and steed fell to the earth, the horse struggling in death, the master struck senseless by a fragment of the shell; in a moment more rebel infantry were pouring over the place in quick pursuit of the flying soldiers. Abner was only stunned by the shock and fall, and his men were scarcely driven from the field when he sat up and gazed around on the scene of desolation. The roar of battle could be heard in the distance; beside him lay his dead horse, and all the field was strewn with men and horses, dead and dying. He wiped away the blood, that was flowing from a wound in his forehead, and tried to rise to his feet. A Confederate officer, seeing his endeavor, advanced and said: "Are you badly hurt, colonel?" "I think it is only a scratch," replied Abner, holding his handkerchief to his head, "but it bleeds quite freely."