As they carried these over their shoulders Ian, looking back, saw them against the palest light like Death in replica.
The two lines hung motionless, on stout ground, now within the defense to which Cope had trusted, very close to the latter's sleeping camp.
There were sentries, but the night was dark, the marsh believed to be unpassable, the crossing carried out with stealthy skill.

But now the night was going.
In the most uncertain, the faintest light, there seemed to Cope's watchers, looking that way, a line of bushes not noted the day before.
Officers were awakened.

A movement ran through the camp like the shiver of water under dawn wind.

The light thickened.

A trumpet rang with a startled, emphatic note.