But the village was a still one. Not a dog barked.
Here was an incredible village without even a dog!
And then, then they saw some more people lying about. A woman lay in a doorway. Near her was something muddy that might have been a child, beyond were six men all spread out very neatly in a row with their faces to the sky.
“Cheetah!” cried Amanda, with her voice going up. “They've been killed. Some one has killed them.”
Benham halted beside her and stared stupidly. “It's a band,” he said. “It's—propaganda. Greeks or Turks or Bulgarians.”
“But their feet and hands are fastened! And—... WHAT HAVE THEY BEEN DOING TO THEM?...”
“I want to kill,” cried Benham. “Oh! I want to kill people. Come on, Amanda! It blisters one's eyes. Come away. Come away! Come!”
Her face was white and her eyes terror-stricken. She obeyed him mechanically. She gave one last look at those bodies....
Down the deep-rutted soil of the village street they clattered. They came to houses that had been set on fire....
“What is that hanging from a tree?” cried Amanda. “Oh, oh!”