The cavalry, whoever they were, went to their stations or bivouacs and ceased to clatter. The town lapsed again into silence. Presently, in the quiet, within a hundred yards of the church, a sentry challenged someone, waited for two seconds, and fired. Someone cried out and fell, while the sentry jerked out the shell, which tinkled on the stones, reloaded and snapped-to the breech.
“The sentry’s night to howl,” the American said.
Soon after this, when the town was silent save for the pacing of the feet of sentries here and there, and the occasional slow passing of horse patrols, some volley-firings, of three or four rifles together, began in the direction of the cathedral. These volleys were repeated at short intervals for twenty minutes.
“What is that sort of firing?” Hi asked.
“It can only be executions,” the American said. “They’re shooting people.”
“Deserters?”
“Yes; or prisoners.”
“Prisoners of war? Surely not?”
“Any gol-darned prisoner’s good enough to shoot in this gol-darned Republic.”
“Then it means that the Whites have won?”