The curtain never stirred.

From whom shall we indignant Britons demand our money back?
With the first glimmer of light between the stars over Bulwan, those few who had stayed the night under roofs began creeping away to the holes in the river bank or the rough, scrubby ground at the foot of the hills south-west of the town, where the Manchesters guard the ridge.

Then we all waited, silent with expectation.

The clouds turned crimson.

At five the sun marched up in silence.