Night came, and the shadows stole up the hills, leaving the valley in darkness. A strange stillness filled the air with foreboding. The moon rose and flooded the hills with light, but revealed no sign of the approaching conflict. Yet, in the corn fields below, thousands of khaki clad men burrowed like moles. The enemy must have been conscious of their presence, for they opened a cannonade that continued at intervals through the night. From the trenches also came rifle fire, and twice in the darkness a small force advanced to dispute the passage of the river. They brought with them drums and trumpets. Could it be that the Russians had adopted Chinese methods of warfare, and hoped to scare the enemy with discord, or did they imagine that they might delude the Japanese into belief that they were an army on the march? The musicians left some of their instruments on the field. But from the corn fields came no response. Bullets whistled among the green stalks, carrying death and wounds in sharp swift notes to two hundred and eighty unseen men, but not a sound or a sign was given. On the left, especially, our casualties were heavy, for the line of infantry was within decisive range. At last day dawned, and the hills awoke. Two mountain batteries had been carried to the crest of a hill commanding the Russian position from the East at a distance of 3,480 mètres; three other mountain batteries were posted on the North bank of the stream, about half way down the valley; they were in the shadow of a temple, 2,800 mètres from the enemy. The Russians had no difficulty in locating the first artillery position, but of the second they remained long in ignorance. The four hundred shells they directed against it fell on a hill upon the opposite bank of the stream where there was neither gun nor rifle. When they discovered the mistake their range was deadly in its accuracy, for it had doubtless been carefully measured, but there were defects in the Russian fuses that rendered their shells often harmless.