It's the silences that hurt.

Nearer, Torp!--nearer! Oh, my God, what wouldn't I give to see 'em for a minute!--one half-minute!' He could hear the armed life almost within reach of him, could hear the slings tighten across the bandsman's chest as he heaved the big drum from the ground.
'Sticks crossed above his head,' whispered Torpenhow.
'I know.

I know! Who should know if I don't?
H'sh!' The drum-sticks fell with a boom, and the men swung forward to the crash of the band.

Dick felt the wind of the massed movement in his face, heard the maddening tramp of feet and the friction of the pouches on the belts.

The big drum pounded out the tune.