The old man shook his head and bent down again over his cabbages.
"Some run in one direction and some in another," he declared in a rambling way. "But I being old stay to meet my fate. As for the city who can tell. The Sword Society has been wholly suppressed, it is said; yet our soldiery are every whit as bad."
They talked in this strain for many minutes only mentioning the outward and visible things in the manner of people who labour; and presently the boy tramped away down the dusty road.
He wondered whether there was any firing now; he wondered whether he would find things in the foreign quarter as he had left them. He had been gone only fourteen days—it would be fourteen days exactly when night fell.
It seemed to be quite peaceful. Not a sound from big guns. Once, as he thought of it, a great chill struck into his heart. Supposing the resistance had been overcome.... It seemed impossible. For the rumours of that would have reached everywhere with lightning speed; the old man with the cabbages would have known everything about it.
He was not very far off from the walls now—not more than three or four miles. He could see the end of one of the suburbs beyond the walls: he picked out the landmarks unerringly.
He headed for that direction.
In the afternoon he reached the suburb. He strolled into it casually trying to attach himself to some one as a protection but finding no one about. It was baking hot: there was no breeze at all. That was why some triangular banners escaped his attention, since their folds hung so limp that there was nothing of their colouring to be seen. But his eye caught the blue tents before it was too late; and he murmured ying-pan (a camp) to himself and lay down as if to sleep.
He crawled back for a long time until the blue tents were mixed with the landscape. Then he began walking again.
He must make another detour, bearing due north.