"We already are trapped," the other farmer pointed out. "Who are you?" he asked.
"The name is Riddell. Of Center City. I want you to tell me where I can find David Barr, and then I want you to go home and stay there."
"Riddell? I've heard of you. You're the—"
"Look, friends, I can't waste time—talk! Where's Barr?"
"His headquarters is at the corner of State and Main—three blocks down. You can't get to see him, though."
"Don't worry about that," Riddell said. "Just go home and keep quiet. Maybe by nightfall things will be different in Northburg. Let's hope so."
Cautiously, he made his way down Main, heading for the big brick building that was undoubtedly Barr's headquarters.
He felt encouraged with the realization that Barr's influence was based on a grip of fear. It was infinitely more easy to destroy a tyrant than to try to change the mind of an entire town.
These people wanted peace—but Barr drove them on to conquest, putting guns in their hands and uniforms on their backs. Riddell planned to stop it.