Daniel made no reply. He’d only glanced at the hilltop before. Now that he looked properly, he could see dark smoke curling up into the air. No chimney would produce such billows. Handing the rein of the farmer’s horse to Welbeck, he kicked his own mount into action and galloped up the hill. As he neared the top, he could hear the distant crackle of flames and the sound filled him with alarm. Cresting the hill, he saw that his fears were justified. Down below him, blazing merrily in the sunshine, was the little farmhouse, the barn and the various outbuildings. It was a calamity. Everything that the farmer had stored against the winter had been destroyed.

When the others joined him, Daniel barked an order.

‘Come on!’ he yelled. ‘We may still be able to save someone.’

But he could see that it was a futile hope. As he led the charge down the hill, he watched the barn collapse and send up an enormous shower of sparks into the air. The roof of the house had already gone and the stable was a mass of charred timbers. There was no sign of the animals. Somewhere in the middle of the grotesque firework display was a family who’d come to Daniel’s aid in a crisis. He prayed that they were still alive. As the riders got closer, however, they were confronted by a hideous sight. Staggering out of the house was the farmer, a human inferno, engulfed in flames, his clothes, his boots and even his hair and beard alight. Yelling in agony, he still had the strength to raise a defiant fist at the approaching redcoats.

Reaching him first, Daniel leapt from his horse, pushed the farmer to the ground then rolled him over in an attempt to put out the blaze. He used his gloves to smother the flames on the farmer’s head and face. Instead of being thankful, however, all that the man could do was to curse and strike out at him.

‘It’s me,’ said Daniel, whisking off his hat. ‘Don’t you recognise me? I’m the man in the pigsty. I came to return your horse.’