For over three miles the band moved in silence, at top speed, away from the scene of their daring exploit. Max judged that by that time they were outside the sweep of the encircling bodies of Germans, and could take a breather for a few minutes. The work on the railway had been hard and exhausting, and the men had for some time been too ill-nourished to be able to sustain long-continued exertion. At the order to halt and rest the men flung themselves on the ground, and for five minutes lay prone upon the grass. Then they went on again.
"D'ye see that smoke yonder, lad?" remarked Corporal Shaw, soon after they had restarted, pointing to a thick column of smoke rising above the trees a couple of miles in their rear. "Is it a signal, or what?"
"No—it's not that," replied Max, after a long look at the smoke, which was rising more thickly at every moment. "There is a little village just there, and I can guess what has happened. The Germans have fired the nearest village in revenge for the attack upon the line. I have often heard of it being done. It is one of their methods of terrorizing the people, so that they dare do nothing themselves and try to prevent others doing any thing in the vicinity of their villages. I had forgotten it until this moment."
"What a black shame!" cried Corporal Shaw with fierce indignation. "What had those poor folk to do with it? The Germans knew that well enough—the cowards!"
The other men in the band soon knew what had happened, and their rage and indignation were extreme. Some wanted to vent their rage by returning to the scene of the burning village and attacking those responsible for the outrage. It was as much as Max and Shaw could do to keep them from turning back and flinging away their lives in a desperate endeavour to exact reparation for the foul deed.
The retreat of the band was continued, but the rage and indignation of all concerned was not lessened when, later in the day, after a long halt, they were overtaken by two families fleeing from the burning village. It needed no question to tell them what they were. There were old men and women, heavy-eyed and outwardly uncomplaining, trudging beside creaking bullock-carts loaded with all the little bits of property they had been able to save from their burning homes. There were white-faced, frightened children, too, tucked in the corners of the carts or perched upon the piled-up goods, and their faces seemed to express mute wonder that such things could be.
It was indeed a sight to make any beholder furious with indignation, but on the unwitting causes of the trouble it acted with fourfold force. An instant reprisal was demanded by all the band, and Corporal Shaw, as angry as any of them, promised that they should have it, and that without any more loss of time than he could avoid.