Her Reputation by Talbot Mundy

The launch ran down a lane between two shimmering reflections of the watch fires, and shoved its nose into a bank where a state militiaman leaned on a rifle and yelled "Hi, there! Here's two more! " There was a murmur of voices, and a great deal of moving to and fro in the shadows between the fires -- dogs barking -- the lowing of a cow -- a chorus of squalling infants. Army tents loomed out of the gloom. There was a smell of wet clothes, and hot soup; and some one -- a small boy probably -- was beating an empty bucket with an iron spoon.

"Step lively," advised the militiaman, "there's others waiting."