In his night clothes, Bale went out on the upper balcony and looked for smoke. North, east, southeast, the rim of trees was unsmudged. He thought, “They’re ringing as if there was more than an ordinary fire. I wonder if—” But no, no, it was too absurd. He went back to his room and dressed. He splashed his face over the washbasin and ran down the stairs; he was alone in the house; Mrs. Wurke was not to return until Wednesday … It was impossible to consider food while that mysterious palpitation of iron and brass kept echoing, and less than a mile away. He shut the outer door, and ran through the gate.

Blue, golden, breathless, the morning arched overhead. Mrs. Knouse was poking her head out of the front door, weird wrappings of faded yellow caught around her neck and shoulders, “Daniel?” she cried. “Daniel?”

“What?” he asked.

“Is it a fire?”

“I don’t know, Mrs. Knouse, I’m sure.” Past her lot, he began to run. His feet came down in a hollow trample on the first length of wooden sidewalk.

Far behind there was the growing mutter of a rapidly approaching vehicle, the mingled wheel-whirring and rattle of loose hoofs which might have been a runaway. A man’s whistle pierced up as Bale turned. The Duffey carryall was bounding over the ruts; Doc leaned out, waving his hat … Dan swung into the highway. Old Salt bore toward him, neck stiff and eyes puffy as oysters. Elijah sawed at the reins: whoa … whoa! Dan caught a side-rod and swung himself sprawling into the rear seat. He cried, “Are you killing old Salt, or what?”

Elijah brought the lines down in a murderous slap on the animal’s back. Doc was leaning over the seat.

“The rebel army’s invaded Chambersburg, Dan,” he said. “Hang on. Elijah thinks he’s a Jehu—”

“How do you know?”

“We met a party of folks running like all hell was after them. Likely they’ve spread the news in town. Hear the bells?”

“You can’t hear anything else; I thought it was a fire.” He had a feeling of bafflement, a deep and disappointing perplexity. “Well, Hud,” he cried, “if that is true, you’re one ahead of me.”

Elijah laughed, a high-pitched carol. He said nothing. The back of his long neck was red … The carryall swayed around the half-turn to the left and straightened out again. Here the homes were built close to the sidewalk; people hung out of windows, and children gaped from every porch rail. A straggling group of youths with schoolbooks under their arms … running in the road, they howled wolfishly as the rig shot past them. Duffey groaned, “And that’s part of Gettysburg’s army. They want to have the war right on the seminary campus, I doubt not.”

“Look here,” Bale cried, “are you sure the story’s true?”