When I got within about half a mile of the ramparts I began to hear the whistling of the shells.

Here the sightseers were not so numerous.

Whenever a shell was heard, there was a rush behind walls and houses.

Some people threw themselves down, others seemed to imagine that the smallest tree would protect them, and congregated behind the thinnest saplings.

Boys were running about picking up pieces of shells, and offering them for sale.