"It wur an awful sight to look roun' among our little sand-works--twenty killed and wounded men, covered with blood and grit. Our leader, Col. Forsythe, was shot in both legs, a ball passin' through the thigh part of one, and a second breakin' the bones of the other below the knee. He wur a knowin' and cool officer. "Lieut. Beecher, a nephew of the big preacher, was shot through the small o' the back, and lay thar beggin' us to kill him. He too wur a brave man, and didn't flinch, never, from duty nor danger. They say that his two sisters were drowned from a sailboat on the Hudson, two years ago, and that the old parents are left now all alone. Doc. Moore was shot through the head, and sat thar noddin', and not knowin' no one. I spoke to him once, and he kinder started back, as if he see the Injun which shot him, still thar. He wur a good surgeon, and all the boys liked him. I hev got his gun down at my tent, all full o' sand, whar it got tramped arter he fell.[4] [4] I obtained the weapon that I had loaned our friend, and have carefully kept it since, as a memento. "Culver lay dead on one side of our little island, shot by an Injun that crawled up in the grass. Lots o' others was wounded, and our chances looked as dark as ther night which wur coming down on us. But we was glad ter see daylight burn out, as it kinder gin us a chance to rest and think. "That night was awful dismal. The little spot o' sand, down thar in the river's bed, seemed ther only piece o' earth friendly to us, and we were clingin' to it like sailors ter a raft at sea. The darkness all around was a gapin' ter swaller us, and a hidin' its blood-hounds, to set 'em on with ther sun. Night, without any thin' in it more 'n grave-stones, is terrifyin' to most people, but just you fill it full of pantin's for blood in front, and Death sittin' behind, among the corpses, and watchin' the wounded, and a feller's blood falls right down to January. It kinder thickens, like water freezin' round the edges, and your hands and feet get powerful cold, and you feel as if you wouldn't ever be thawed out, this side of the very place you don't want ter go to. "Toward midnight, Stillwell and Trudell crawled out o' camp, to go for relief. They were to creep and sneak through the Injun lines, and get beyond 'em by daylight. Then they would lay by, and push on ag'in, when dark cum, toward Wallace. That little spot of barracks, a hundred and twenty-five miles off, kept up our hope mightily. It was our light-house, like. We were shipwrecked among savages, and had sent a couple of yawls off, to tell the keeper thar of danger. We knew if the news reached, blue coats would flash out to us, like spots of light, and our foes go before 'em as mist.