him
in their hole and fed him for the same reason that the prairie-dogs and
the brown owls house the rattlesnakes--because they did not know how to
get rid of him.

V

WE KNEW THAT THINGS were hard for our Bohemian neighbours, but the two
girls were lighthearted and never complained. They were always ready to
forget their troubles at home, and to run away with me over the prairie,
scaring rabbits or starting up flocks of quail.

I remember Antonia's excitement when she came into our kitchen one
afternoon and announced: 'My papa find friends up north, with Russian
mans. Last night he take me for see, and I can understand very much
talk. Nice mans, Mrs. Burden. One is fat and all the time laugh.
Everybody laugh. The first time I see my papa laugh in this kawntree.
Oh, very nice!'

I asked her if she meant the two Russians who lived up by the big
dog-town. I had often been tempted to go to see them when I was riding
in that direction, but one of them was a wild-looking fellow and I was
a little afraid of him. Russia seemed to me more remote than any other
country--farther away than China, almost as far as the North Pole. Of
all the strange, uprooted people among the first settlers, those two
men were the strangest and the most aloof. Their last names were
unpronounceable, so they were called Pavel and Peter. They went about
making signs to people, and until the Shimerdas came they had no
friends. Krajiek could understand them a little, but he had cheated them
in a trade, so they avoided him. Pavel, the tall one, was said to be an
anarchist; since he had no means of imparting his opinions, probably his
wild gesticulations and his generally excited and rebellious manner gave
rise to this supposition. He must once have been a very strong man, but
now his great frame, with big, knotty joints, had a wasted look, and the
skin was drawn tight over his high cheekbones. His breathing was hoarse,
and he always had a cough.

Peter, his companion, was a very different sort of fellow; short,
bow-legged, and as fat as butter. He always seemed pleased when he met
people on the road, smiled and took off his cap to everyone, men as well
as women. At a distance, on his wagon, he looked like an old man; his
hair and beard were of such a pale flaxen colour that they seemed white
in the sun. They were as thick and curly as carded wool. His rosy face,
with its snub nose, set in this fleece, was like a melon among its
leaves. He was