h a smile. "Well, then,
so let it be. We will go together; call the landlord, and let us make
all our traveling arrangements."

CHAPTER XX.

It was still night when Anton stepped over the threshold of the tavern.
A thick cloud hung over the plain. A red glare on the horizon marked the
district through which the travelers had to pass. The mist of night
covered, with a gray veil, a dark mass on the ground. Anton went nearer,
and found that it consisted of men, women, and children, cowering on the
earth, pale, hungry, and emaciated. "They are from the village on the
other side of the boundary," explained an old watchman, who stood
wrapped in his cavalry cloak. "Their village was on fire; they had run
into the forest, and during the night they had come down to the river,
stretching out their hands, and crying piteously for bread. As they were
mostly women and children, our captain allowed them to cross, and has
had a few loaves cut up for them. They are half famished. After them
came larger bodies, all crying 'Bread! bread!' and wringing their hands.
We fired off a few pistol-shots over their heads, and soon scattered
them."

"Ha!" said Anton, "this is a poor prospect for us and our journey. But
what will become of these unfortunate creatures?"

"They are only border rascals," said the watchman, soothingly. "Half
the year they smuggle and swill, the other half they starve. They are
freezing a little just now."

"Could one not have a caldron full of soup made for them?" inquired
Anton, compassionately, putting his hand into his pocket.

"Why soup?" replied the other, coldly; "a drink of brandy would please
the whole fry better. Over there they all drink brandy, even the child
at the breast; if you are inclined to spend something upon them in that
way, I'll give it out, not forgetting a loyal old soldier at the same
time."

"I will request the landlord to have something warm got ready for them,
and you will have the goodness to see that it is all right." And again
Anton's hand went into his pocket, and the watchman promised to keep his
warlike heart open to compassion.

An hour later the travelers were rolling along in an open britzska. The
merchant drove; Anton sat behind him, and looked eagerly out into the
surrounding landscape, where, through darkness and mist, a few detached
objects were just beginning to appear. When they had driven about two
hundred yards, they heard a Polish call. The merchant stoppe