Within the course of the next few days, a strange rumour spread through Dominey and the district,--from the farm labourer to the farmer, from the school children to their homes, from the village post-office to the neighbouring hamlets.

A gang of woodmen from a neighbouring county, with an engine and all the machinery of their craft, had started to work razing to the ground everything in the shape of tree or shrub at the north end of the Black Wood.

The matter of the war was promptly forgotten.

Before the second day, every man, woman and child in the place had paid an awed visit to the outskirts of the wood, had listened to the whirr of machinery, had gazed upon the great bridge of planks leading into the wood, had peered, in the hope of some strange discovery into the tents of the men who were camping out.

The men themselves were not communicative, and the first time the foreman had been known to open his mouth was when Dominey walked down to discuss progress, on the morning after his arrival.
"It's a dirty bit of work, sir," he confided.