Page:The Way of the Cross, Doroshevich, tr. Graham, 1916.djvu/38

22 Utterly worn out, the fugitives turn in from the highway and make their camp in the forest at the very edge of the road.

They stay there for days, for a week, upon occasion for two weeks.

They chop wood and make fires.

They cut it down, not asking

—Whose is it?

They cut wood indiscriminately, continuously.

When they have absolutely made a space bare, they move on farther.

They eat into the forest.

And behind them they leave the fresh-hewn stumps of trees, the bare glade, the black traces of the bonfires.

They trample down everything.

No grass remains, not a bit of hay, no leaves from the trees which they've cut down, no branches—the ground is covered only with a sort of grey dust, with a litter of light rubbish.