Landmarks had vanished into the gathered gloom.
The youth began to imagine that he had got into the center of the tremendous quarrel, and he could perceive no way out of it.

From the mouths of the fleeing men came a thousand wild questions, but no one made answers.
The youth, after rushing about and throwing interrogations at the heedless bands of retreating infantry, finally clutched a man by the arm.

They swung around face to face.
"Why--why--" stammered the youth struggling with his balking tongue.
The man screamed: "Let go me! Let go me!" His face was livid and his eyes were rolling uncontrolled.

He was heaving and panting.

He still grasped his rifle, perhaps having forgotten to release his hold upon it.