"Keep away from the moonlight." The voices came to us connected sometimes with a nose, an eye, or a leg, often enough out of the heaven itself.
"There's a man wounded behind the next lines," some voice murmured.
We stumbled on and suddenly came to a river with very steep banks and a number of narrow and slender bridges.

If this _had_ in reality been a nightmare this river could not have obtruded itself more often than it did.

We discovered to our dismay that our soldier-guide had disappeared (exactly as in a nightmare he would have done).

We crossed the river (bathed of course in moonlight), the plank bridge shaking and quivering beneath us.
We had then a difficult task.

Here a row of cottages beneath the very edge of the bank and in the cottage shadow the soldiers were ranged in a long line.