ter of the woods beyond.

II

Another day, hot and breathless. A deserted farmhouse, large, with many
outbuildings and an orchard, standing in a clearing. From the Woods, on
a roan horse, carbine across pommel, rode the young man with the quick
black eyes. He breathed with relief as he gained the house. That a fight
had taken place here earlier in the season was evident. Clips and empty
cartridges, tarnished with verdigris, lay on the ground, which, while
wet, had been torn up by the hoofs of horses. Hard by the kitchen garden
were graves, tagged and numbered. From the oak tree by the kitchen door,
in tattered, weatherbeaten garments, hung the bodies of two men. The
faces, shriveled and defaced, bore no likeness to the faces of men. The
roan horse snorted beneath them, and the rider caressed and soothed it
and tied it farther away.

Entering the house, he found the interior a wreck. He trod on empty
cartridges as he walked from room to room to reconnoiter from the
windows. Men had camped and slept everywhere, and on the floor of one
room he came upon stains unmistakable where the wounded had been laid
down.

Again outside, he led the horse around behind the barn and invaded the
orchard. A dozen trees were burdened with ripe apples. He filled his
pockets, eating while he picked. Then a thought came to him, and he
glanced at the sun, calculating the time of his return to camp. He
pulled off his shirt, tying the sleeves and making a bag. This he
proceeded to fill with apples.

As he was about to mount his horse, the animal suddenly pricked up its
ears. The man, too, listened, and heard, faintly, the thud of hoofs on
soft earth. He crept to the corner of the barn and peered out. A dozen
mounted men, strung out loosely, approaching from the opposite side of
the clearing, were only a matter of a hundred yards or so away. They
rode on to the house. Some dismounted, while others remained in the
saddle as an earnest that their stay would be short. They seemed to
be holding a council, for he could hear them talking excitedly in the
detested tongue of the alien invader. The time passed, but they seemed
unable to reach a decision. He put the carbine away in its boot,
mounted, and waited impatiently, balancing the shirt of apples on the
pommel.

He heard footsteps approaching, and drove his spurs so fiercely into the
roan as to force a surprised groan from the animal as it leaped forward.
At the corner of the barn he saw the