CHAPTER VII

THE DECANTERBURY PILGRIMS


Through a dreary waste of devastated country a little group of
refugees plodded in silence. All about them lay fields and
orchards which had been torn and uprooted as though by some
unbelievable whirlwind. At a watering trough along the road they
halted, facing the sign:

COMPULSORY DRINKING STATION

Adults, 1 quart
Children, 1 pint

THIRST FORBIDDEN BETWEEN HERE AND THE NEXT STATION

Under the eye of an armed chuff, who watched them suspiciously,
the wretched wanderers drank the water in silence, but without
enthusiasm. Then they shuffled on down the road.

At the front of the small procession a slender girl, in a much-
stained sports suit, rode on a tall black horse. Beside the horse
trudged a bulky man in a grotesque garb of dirty lavender
quilting. A matted whisk of coarse beard drooped from his chin,
but his blue eyes burned brightly in his sunburnt face. Over his
shoulder he carried a six foot length of brass railing, a small
folding table, and a shabby knapsack.