At a place where three roads met, we came upon a father huddled with wife and three daughters; the father placed his body between us and the girls. When we challenged them, the man sobbed, “God save the King . . . please you . . . or whatsoever . . .”
We left them where they stood.
We came upon a mad dog which growled, then ran at us; Slant flinched, but Pomp jabbed at it with his bayonet until, it skipping and leaping, the dog was impaled, and collapsed; and we marched on.
We came upon a street that was a scene out of the infernal regions, each house afire, a lane where demonic citizens might walk, capes black, bonnets bulging, baskets filled with mewling roots.
There was no passing down it; the flames billowed from each side.
We came upon a another detachment of rebels espied down a far street, obscured by smoke. They fired upon us; we returned their volley. When the clouds cleared, they were disappeared.
We came upon a fire engine in a neighborhood of flame.
The tank was empty of water. Two men, blackened with soot, sat upon the wheels, and smoked pipes. They did not bestir themselves for us, but watched as we passed, dragging our cart, Jocko motionless behind us on his berth.