Their tips flung themselves past the racing troops; then like gigantic pincers began to contract.
Of no avail now was it for the horsemen to halt dragging their mounts on their haunches, or to turn to fly.

The ends of the lunettes had met, the pincer tips had closed.

The mounted men were trapped within half-mile-wide circles.

And in upon man and horse their living walls marched.

Within those enclosures of the doomed began a frantic milling--I shut my eyes-- There was a dreadful screaming of horses, a shrieking of men.