A shiver ran over him, and then his face grew hot.

The pulses in his temples beat heavily.

He was sure that Sherburne and he and all the rest were going to perish.

The long and massive Northern line was coming on fast.

They, too, had fired their carbines, and now thousands of sabres flashed through the mists.
Harry was swinging his own sword, but as the great force bore down upon them, the white mist seemed to turn to red and the long line of horsemen fused into a solid mass, its front flashing with steel.
He became conscious, as the space between them closed rapidly, that a heavy crackling fire was bursting from a wood between the Northern cavalry and the river.