The wounded in their blankets lay on the ground.

A few of the unhurt slept, but most of them sat in silence looking somberly at one another.
Fannin lay against the breech of one of the cannon, blankets having been folded between to make his position easy.

His wound was severe and he was suffering greatly, but he uttered no complaint.

He had not shown great skill or judgment as a leader, but he was cool and undaunted in action.

Now he was calling a council to see what they could do to release themselves from their desperate case.