MacNeil made small talk until the first knock sounded at the door. A man with gray hair came into the room with his wife. MacNeil introduced them as Dr. and Mrs. Sellers. “Dr. Sellers is our family doctor.” Soon five more people filed into the room, two women and three men, all well past middle age. They sat stiffly at first until the manner of their host made them feel at home. The doctor turned his bright blue eyes on Tim and asked in a gentle drawl, “Do you know much about the progress of the war?” “Very little, sir, I’m afraid,” Tim said. “We were in jail more than five months before we escaped.” Their host nodded toward the man who had asked the question and turned to Tim. “Doctor Sellers is our only doctor--your father’s Southern counterpart.” The doctor spoke softly. “In wartime we think of our enemies as unrelenting scoundrels. Of course we know in our hearts it isn’t so. But I can’t for the life of me see why the North must bring our long-established institutions down.” He shook his head. “Now I’m talking like a child. Slavery is already doomed.” The doctor’s wife gasped. “Surely not if we win the War.” The doctor said, “I’m sorry, Mary. Our lamp is burning mighty low.” A hard-faced woman rose from her chair. “I never thought to hear such talk. I think I’ll be moving along.” A heavy knock came at the door and Kane was let in, followed by three men, one of them with a bad limp, unmistakably Kane’s son. MacNeil greeted the men and in the silence that followed Tim heard the yelping and scratching of hounds. Kane stood, his head nearly touching one of the heavy beams, the firelight making his face an ugly mask. He spoke in his rasping drawl. “In the presence of your neighbors, Mr. MacNeil, I want to say it one more time. These men should be treated as prisoners.” “Prisoners of war, not criminals, Mr. Kane.” Kane mumbled “Good night” and moved toward the door with his son and friends trailing behind. They were followed shortly by the hard-faced woman and one of the men who must be her husband. The doctor, speaking for the people who remained, said, “I bid you gentlemen good night.” He smiled sadly. “This village was a happy place before the War. I wish you could have known us then.” When his neighbors had left, MacNeil gave orders to the guard. “Station yourself in the upstairs hall. I’ll show the prisoners to their rooms a little later on. The night is cold. There’ll be no need of guards outside. Two can sleep while two stand watch outside the bedroom doors. You can set the shifts as suits you best.”