The guerrillas came forward on foot, running, and scrambling up the incline, but inclined to keep well back from the silent church. Yet they did not seem to take their mission seriously, laughing and talking as they ran, Kelly's voice growling out commands. Even if their victim was within those log walls, they had little to fear from one man; there might be a shot or two fired, of course, but the odds were far too great for them to entertain any doubt as to the result. Anse remained out in the road motionless, holding his horse, a dark shapeless group of men gathered about him. Jem was clattering down the pike, the clang of his horse's hoofs dying away in the distance. Harwood dropped his gripping hand from off my shoulder, and stepped back from before the window.
"Sergeant."
"Here, sir," and Wharton moved slightly in the darkness, so as to signify his whereabouts.
"You attended to the door?"
"Yes, sir; we found an old iron bar to fit across; they'll have to crush in the wood to get through."
"Good; we'll give those devils a surprise party; there will be some dead men around here presently. I'll take charge here at the front; you have men at the other window?"
"Five, sir."
