As thickly, in the dust, empty Mauser cartridges lay glistening.
"And I bought food," mourned the captain, chafing the untidy stubble on his cheeks, and staring gloomily down at the worthless brass.

"I bought chow, when all Saigong was full o' cartridges!" The sight of the spent ammunition at their feet gave them more trouble than the swarming flies, or the heat, or the noises tearing and splitting the heat.

Even Heywood went about with a hang-dog air, speaking few words, and those more and more surly.

Once he laughed, when at broad noonday a line of queer heads popped up from the earthwork on the knoll, and stuck there, tilted at odd angles, as though peering quizzically.

Both his laugh, however, and his one stare of scrutiny were filled with a savage contempt,--contempt not only for the stratagem, but for himself, the situation, all things.
"Dummies--lay figures, to draw our fire.