"You can trust Fox for that; he is a fighting man, whatever may be the inclination of the major—and Cowan is a wolf. Listen! that is his voice now."
I walked back to my station, speaking to both Wharton and O'Hare as I passed. The men we detached hurried to the front, and I took the vacant place of one of them at the open window, back of the pulpit. The line of men threatening this end of the building had been drawn aside, out of direct rifle range, and seemed to be grouped opposite each corner, and were so closely bunched together as to make any estimate of their numbers impossible. They were only shapeless shadows, with moonlight gleaming from their weapons; and an occasional voice breaking the ominous silence. What their purpose might be in assuming such formation could not be determined; were they merely guarding against an effort on our part to break away? or did they contemplate an assault in conjunction with the larger force at the front of the church? No further movement, or word, gave me any clue, but the manifest lack of ordinary military formation caused me to suspect that these fellows were Cowan's guerrillas, and that the reinforcement of cavalrymen had been sent elsewhere. Once a man passed between the two bodies, bending low as he ran.
There remained nothing to do but wait their
