"Who are you?" I called to one of the men as they passed.

"Belgians--refugees."

Refugees! My mind flew back to descriptions of the French Revolution
and the Reign of Terror, when so many people fled for their lives! What
nonsense! Were we not in the twentieth century? Wasn't there a Peace
Palace at The Hague? My thoughts became muddled.

Opening the gate, I went out and accosted another man.

"Won't you come in and rest?"

"No, we can't. We must make our twenty miles by dawn--and rest during
the heat of the day."

"But why do you leave home?"

"Because the savages burned us out!"

Bah, the man must be dreaming!

I turned back and addressed myself to another:

"What's your hurry?" I queried

"They're on our heels!" came the reply.

Surely this one was madder than the other!