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A sodden smell of burned things came from the still
smoking ruins; but the walls, being of thick stone, stood.
Our poor tired old nag halted and sniffed and snorted. If she had had
energy enough I reckon she would have shied about and run back the way
she had come, for now, just ahead, lay two dead horses--a big gray and a
roan--with their stark legs sticking out across the road. The gray was
shot through and through in three places. The right fore hoof of the
roan had been cut smack off, as smoothly as though done with an ax; and
the stiffened leg had a curiously unfinished look about it, suggesting a
natural malformation. Dead only a few hours, their carcasses already
had begun to swell. The skin on their bellies was as tight as a
drumhead.
We forced the quivering mare past the two dead horses. Beyond them the
road was a litter. Knapsacks, coats, canteens, handkerchiefs, pots,
pans, household utensils, bottles, jugs and caps were everywhere. The
deep ditches on either side of the road were clogged with such things.


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