But as I proceeded, I noticed that a Sabbath quiet had settled upon the country. I now met nobody. The houses seemed deserted. One of the only moving objects was a farmer far up a hill slope who, with a large white grain basket by his side, strode over the red ground sowing grain. One man at least in the midst of war was determined to be at peace.
But I understood the quiet as soon as I came in sight of the village. The church bell was slowly tolling and there seemed to be thousands of people upon the village green.
At sight of the crowd the old man's words regarding the probable fate of Duncan Hale flashed upon my mind. For a moment my heart stood still. Was the crowd in the distance a mob bent on vengeance? And yet, why was the bell tolling?
In spite of the feeling that I might be acting unwisely, I urged my horse rapidly on toward the village that lay in the valley before me. I was out in search of information, and must obtain it.
Chapter III
Made Prisoner
I had scarcely reached the village, when I learned that I had been quite wrong in supposing that violence was intended by the people.
'It's the funeral,' a man on the fringe of the crowd told me. 'It was here the first of the shootin' was done day before yesterday. The eight of our men who were killed all belonged in this neighbourhood, an' attended this church. They are all to be buried here this afternoon.'
He pointed to a row of eight graves near the church.