But two of the Virginia officers lifted him up and bore him toward the rear.

Then the army that had fought so long against an invisible foe broke into a panic, that is what was left of it, as two thirds of its numbers had already been killed or wounded.

Shouting with horror and ignoring their officers, they rushed for the river.
Everything was lost, cannon and baggage were abandoned, and often rifles and muskets were thrown away.

Into the water they rushed, and the Indians, who had followed howling like wolves, stopped, though they fired at the fleeing men in the stream.
As the retreat began, Robert, Tayoga and Willet, whom some miracle seemed to preserve from harm, joined the Virginians who covered the rear, and, as fast as they could reload their rifles, they fired at the demon horde that pressed closer and closer, and that never ceased to cut down the fleeing army.

It was much like a ghastly dream to Robert.