The youth and the tattered soldier followed, sneaking as if whipped, feeling unable to face the stricken man if he should again confront them.

They began to have thoughts of a solemn ceremony.

There was something rite-like in these movements of the doomed soldier.

And there was a resemblance in him to a devotee of a mad religion, blood-sucking, muscle-wrenching, bone-crushing.

They were awed and afraid.