Some had sunk down for a moment by the roadside, agonized with weariness, in order to breathe without the weight of their knapsacks, and draw their swollen feet from their leather prisons, and wipe off the sweat; but upon trying to renew their march, they found it impossible to rise.

Their bodies seemed made of stone.

Fatigue had brought them to a condition bordering on catalepsy so, unable to move, they were seeing dimly the rest of the army passing on as a fantastic file--battalions, more battalions, batteries, troops of horses.

Then the silence, the night, the sleep on the stones and dust, shaken by most terrible nightmare.

At daybreak they were awakened by bodies of horsemen exploring the ground, rounding up the remnants of the retreat.