The world was fully interested in other matters.
Apparently, the regiment had its small affair to itself.
The youth, turning, shot a quick, inquiring glance at his friend.

The latter returned to him the same manner of look.

They were the only ones who possessed an inner knowledge.

"Mule drivers--hell t' pay--don't believe many will get back." It was an ironical secret.
Still, they saw no hesitation in each other's faces, and they nodded a mute and unprotesting assent when a shaggy man near them said in a meek voice: "We'll git swallowed.".