It was incredible that a moment before
this thing had been a man, an individual, a hesitating complicated
purpose.
"Good God!" cried Benham, "but--this is horrible!"
The heap of garments lay still. The red hand that stretched out
towards the soldiers never twitched.
The spectacular silence broke into a confusion of sounds, women
shrieked, men cursed, some fled, some sought a corner from which
they might still see, others pressed forward. "Go for the swine!"
bawled a voice, a third volley rattled over the heads of the people,
and in the road below a man with a rifle halted, took aim, and
answered the soldiers' fire. "Look out!" cried White who was
watching the soldiers, and ducked. "This isn't in the air!"
Came a straggling volley again, like a man running a metal hammer
very rapidly along iron corrugations, and this time people were
dropping all over the road. One white-faced man not a score of
yards away fell with a curse and a sob, struggled up, staggered for
some yards with blood running abundantly from his neck, and fell and
never stirred again.
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