From the end of the cabin Olaf's voice broke in. With it came the
metallic working of his rifle as he filled the chamber with
cartridges. He spoke first to Celie and Armin in their own
language, then to Philip.
"It's a pretty safe gamble we'd better get ready for them," he
said. "They'll soon begin. Did you split even on the cartridges?"
"Seventeen apiece."
Philip examined his rifle, and looked through the gun-crevice
toward the forest. He heard Olaf tugging at the dogs as he tied
them to the bunk posts; he heard Armin say something in a strained
voice, and the Swede's unintelligible reply, followed by a quick,
low-voiced interrogation from Celie. In the same moment his heart
gave a sudden jump. In the fringe of the forest he saw a long,
thin line of moving figures--ADVANCING. He did not call out a
warning instantly. For a space in which he might have taken a long
breath or two his eyes and brain were centered on the moving
figures and the significance of their drawn-out formation. Like a
camera-flash his eyes ran over the battleground.
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