This was
reassuring. The general himself entertained the story, and here was
proof that there was 'something in it.' All the population now made
for the walls; every spot from which the view towards Ronco could
be obtained was speedily crowded, every window filled, and all the
housetops crammed. A dark mass of inky cloud covered the tops of the
Apennines, and even descended to some distance down the sides. With what
shapes and forms of military splendour did our imaginations people the
space behind that sombre curtain! What columns of stern warriors, what
prancing squadrons, what earth-shaking masses of heavy artillery! How
longingly each eye grew weary watching--waiting for the veil to be rent,
and the glancing steel to be seen glistening bright in the sun-rays!

As if to torture our anxieties, the lowering mass grew darker and
heavier, and, rolling lazily adown the mountain, it filled up the
valley, wrapping earth and sky in one murky mantle.

'There, did you hear that?' cried one; 'that was artillery.'

A pause followed, each ear was bent to listen, and not a word was
uttered for full a minute or more; the immense host, as if swayed by
the one impulse, strained to catch the sounds, when suddenly, from the
direction of the mountain top, there came a rattling, crashing noise,
followed by the dull, deep booming that every soldier's heart responds
to What a cheer then burst forth! never did I hear--never may I
hear--such a cry as that was; it was like the wild yell of a shipwrecked
crew, as some distant sail hove in sight; and yet, through its cadence,
there rang the mad lust for vengeance! Yes, in all the agonies of
sinking strength, with fever in their hearts, and the death sweat on
their cheeks, their cry was Blood! The puny shout, for such it seemed
now, was drowned in the deafening crash that now was heard; peal after
peal shook the air, the same rattling, peppering noise of musketry
continuing through all.

That the French were in strong force, as well as the enemy, there could
now be no doubt. Nothing but a serious affair and a stubborn resistance
could warrant such a fire. It had every semblance of an attack with all
arms. The roar of the heavy guns made the air vibrate, and the clatter
of small-arms was incessant. How each of us filled up the picture from
the impulses of his own fancy! Some said that the French were still
behind the mountain, and storming the heights of the Borghetto; others
thought that th