A thin voice said abruptly, “They’re moving⁠—lookit⁠— They’re moving, I tell you⁠—lookit⁠—” They all looked then. A little crackling noise as of burning thornsticks Began far away⁠—ceased wholly⁠—began again⁠— “We won’t get it awhile,” thought Ellyat. “They’re trying the left. We won’t get it awhile, but we’ll get it soon. I feel funny today. I don’t think I’m going to be killed But I feel funny. That’s their whole army all right. I wonder if those other two felt like this, John Haberdeen and the corporal from Millerstown? What’s it like to see your name on a bullet? It must feel queer. This is going to be a big one. The Johnnies know it. That house looks pretty down there. Phaëton, charioteer in your drunken car, What have you got for a man that carries my name? We’re a damn good company now, if we say it ourselves, And the Old Man knows it⁠—but this one’s bound to be tough. I wonder what they’re feeling like over there.