Explore "The Clan of no-Name" by Stephen Crane on Textopian. Read with annotations and highlights.
The insurgent general stood in the middle of the road gnawing his lips. Occasionally, he stamped a foot and beat his hands passionately together. The carriers were streaming past him, patient, sweating fellows, bowed under their burdens, but they could not move fast enough for him when others of his men were engaged both to the east and to the west, and he, too, knew from the sound that those to the east were in a sore way. Moreover, he could hear that accursed bugling, bugling, bugling in the west.
He turned suddenly to the new lieutenant who stood behind him, pale and quiet. "Did you ever think a hundred men were so many? " he cried, incensed to the point of beating them. Then he said longingly: "Oh, for a half an hour! Or even twenty minutes!"