human
Ostrog. All his impressions were vague save the massive emotion of that trampling song. The multitude were beating time with their feet--marking time, tramp, tramp, tramp, tramp. The green weapons waved, flashed and slanted. Then he saw those nearest to him on a level space before the stage were marching in front of him, passing towards a great archway, shouting
gpt
To the Council! Tramp, tramp, tramp, tramp. He raised his arm, and the roaring was redoubled. He remembered he had to shout
human
March! His mouth shaped inaudible heroic words. He waved his arm again and pointed to the archway, shouting
gpt
Onward!