Phases of the history of the world flashed through her mind--Greek and Roman wars, dark, mediaeval times, the crimes in the name of religion.

On sea, on land, everywhere--shooting, stabbing, cursing, clashing, fighting men! Greed, power, oppression, fanaticism, love, hate, revenge, justice, freedom--for these, men killed one another.
She lay there under the cedars, gazing up through the delicate lacelike foliage at the blue sky, and she thought and wondered and did not care.
More rattling shots disturbed the noonday quiet.

She heard a sliding of weathered rock, a hoarse shout of warning, a yell of alarm, again the clear, sharp crack of the rifle, and another cry that was a cry of death.

Then rifle reports pierced a dull volley of revolver shots.
Bullets whizzed over Jane's hiding-place; one struck a stone and whined away in the air.

After that, for a time, succeeded desultory shots; and then they ceased under long, thundering fire from heavier guns.
Sooner or later, then, Jane heard the cracking of horses' hoofs on the stones, and the sound came nearer and nearer.