Arthur Conan Doyle,
The Great Shadow — Chapter 13
(1892)
“ Starved and weary and spent, we prayed that we might have strength to load and stab and fire while a man of us stood on his feet. His cannon could do us no great hurt now, for we were on our faces, and in an instant we could turn into a huddle of bayonets if his horse came down again. But behind the thunder of the guns there rose a sharper, shriller noise, whirring and rattling, the wildest, jauntiest, most stirring kind of sound. ”
