noon
Opposite , across the stream , long files of gray infantry were moving to cover among the trees ; behind , a battalion arrived to support the guns ; below , the cavalry had begun to leave the pass ; troopers , dismounted , were carefully removing from the road all traces of their arrival . Leaning there by the window , the Special Messenger counted the returning fours as troop after troop retired southward and disappeared around the bend of the road . For a while the picks and shovels of the gunners sounded noisily ; concealed riflemen , across the creek , were also busy intrenching . But by noon all sound had ceased in the sunny ravine ; there was nothing to be seen from below ; not a human voice echoed ; not a pick-stroke ; only the sweet , rushing sound of the stream filled the silence ; only the shadows of the branches moved . Warned again by the sentinels to close the battered window and keep the door shut , she still watched the gunners , through the dirty window panes , where they now lay under the bushes beside their guns . There was no conversation among them ; some of the artillerymen seemed to be asleep ; some sprawled belly-deep in the ferns , chewing twigs or idly scraping holes in the soil ; a few lay about , eating the remnants of the morning 's scanty rations , chewing strips of bacon rind , and licking the last crumbs from the palms of their grimy hands . Along the bush-hidden parapet of earth , heaps of ammunition lay -- cannister and common shell .