He wondered how they could remember its formula in the midst of confusion.
The guns squatted in a row like savage chiefs.

They argued with abrupt violence.

It was a grim pow-wow.

Their busy servants ran hither and thither.
A small procession of wounded men were going drearily toward the rear.
It was a flow of blood from the torn body of the brigade.
To the right and to the left were the dark lines of other troops.

Far in front he thought he could see lighter masses protruding in points from the forest.