The band of the Gloucesters were practising scales in unison to slow time.

Suddenly a kind of feeling came into the air that something was happening.

I noticed the waggon stopped; the oxen at once lay down in the dust; the music ceased and was packed away.

I met the Gordons coming into town and asking for their ground.

Riding up the mile or two to camp, I found the whole dusty plateau astir.