Micah Clarke by Sir Arthur Conan Doyle — Read

Some little distance from us a branch road ran into that along which we / and our motley assemblage of companions-in-arms were travelling. This / road curved down the side of a well-wooded hill, and then over the level / for a quarter of a mile or so before opening on the other. Just at the / brow of the rising ground there stood a thick bristle of trees, amid the / trunks of which there came and went a bright shimmer of sparkling steel, / which proclaimed the presence of armed men. Farther back, where the road / took a sudden turn and ran along the ridge of the hill, several horsemen / could be plainly seen outlined against the evening sky. So peaceful, / however, was the long sweep of countryside, mellowed by the golden light / of the setting sun, with a score of village steeples and manor-houses / peeping out from amongst the woods, that it was hard to think that the / thundercloud of war was really lowering over that fair valley, and that / at any instant the lightning might break from it.

The country folk, however, appeared to have no difficulty at all in / understanding the danger to which they were exposed. The fugitives from / the West gave a yell of consternation, and ran wildly down the road or / whipped up their beasts of burden in the endeavour to place as safe a / distance as possible between themselves and the threatened attack. The / chorus of shrill cries and shouts, with the cracking of whips, creaking / of wheels, and the occasional crash when some cart load of goods came to / grief, made up a most deafening uproar, above which our leader's voice / resounded in sharp, eager exhortation and command. When, however, the / loud brazen shriek from a bugle broke from the wood, and the head of / a troop of horse began to descend the slope, the panic became greater / still, and it was difficult for us to preserve any order at all amidst / the wild rush of the terrified fugitives.