"You are just in time, Schmidt," said one of the newcomers.
"What for?" asked the trooper, who evidently belonged to the same regiment.
"To see how we reduce the population. There's a big farm in a hamlet a quarter-mile up the road. Rumpelmeyer was shot near there, so we routed out all the men in the place except the farmer, who escaped. As soon as he is rounded up we are going to shoot the lot."
They rumbled on into the hamlet, and pulled up at the gate of the farm. The terrified villagers were penned up like cattle in the farmyard, guarded by a dozen Uhlans. A few women at the wall, imploring the Germans to have mercy, were answered with brutal jeers.
"A dirty herd!" said the trooper on the wagon. "Why don't you shoot them at once?"
"The Wachtmeister thinks that would be too good for them. First dinner, and then sport, says he. He is a humorist, our Wachtmeister. Here he is."
"Thank goodness I needn't go any further on this lumbering wagon," said the trooper. "Is the whole regiment coming up from Spa?"
"In the course of the day. Fifteen of us came in advance. Two are hunting for the farmer."
"Well done, Schmidt," said the sergeant, coming up to the wagon. "You've a good load there."
"Shall I unload, and give the horses a feed?" asked the trooper.