What seemed stranger still was the equipment they carried. Each, so far down the road as Doctor Brent could distinguish, had some sort of game or provision pouch thrown over the shoulder. Each had his powder horn and cartridge box. In one hand was the inevitable musket. And as the foremost came upon the amazed doctor he saw that their countenances were almost uniformly patterned. Some seemed dourer than others and some seemed highly excited; he began to distinguish angry voices in the foremost group and mild voices. But all were of a resolved countenance, quite as if they had deliberated upon some course and made their minds in favor of it. Brent drew the horse aside and bent his attention to the first few. “What’s this?” he demanded. “Where’s the drill to be so early in the morning?” The conversation, he noticed with a touch of sorrow and wounded pride, ceased as they drew near. They stopped out of respect to his profession, and one or two touched their caps, not deferentially, but more as a courtesy long established and hard to forget. Yet one and all seemed strangely lacking in speech. Presently the first group was joined by others, and they, also, had nothing to offer the wondering Brent. He struck the side of his saddle and swore gruffly. “Are you tongue-tied? ----, I know you--every mother’s son--as well as I know my name, and yet I can’t get a civil answer! What is all this fuss about? Where is the drill?” At length one ventured to break the silence. “Guess it ain’t a drill, Doctor. Other things afoot, maybe.” “What, then?” asked Brent with a little sinking of heart. He knew that stubborn countenance and that mild speech of old. They would say little but think mightily. And it took a charge of powder to change their minds. “What, then?” he repeated after a long interval. “Don’t know as I should tell you,” replied the speaker. “Ain’t aimin’ to be short with you, Doctor, but I don’t rightly guess you got a right to know.” “Mystery--mummery,” retorted Brent, trying to break through the wall. “Are you taking on airs to me, sir?” After another long and reluctant interval the man replied with the same soft-spoken doggedness. “Why no, Doctor, that ain’t hardly right to say. But I don’t just guess I got a right to tell or you to know.” A more reckless spirit had joined them. “What’s the harm?” he demanded. “It’s daylight now. Guess the job’s been done. I ain’t afraid to tell that ’tarnal leech----” There was an instant disapproval, and the bold one hushed. “May be daylight and all that,” said the spokesman, “but it ain’t our part to talk. Leave the officers do that if they’re a mind to. Guess we’re only wasting time here, too.” He nodded to the doctor and went on, followed by the augmented group.