Page:The Way of the Cross, Doroshevich, tr. Graham, 1916.djvu/39

Rh All around is a stench from the filth they've left behind.

Sometimes—indeed often—by the side of the road they leave a new-made grave marked by a white, roughly cut wooden cross.

As you go along the road you can see the forest smoking here, there, and in every direction.

These are the bonfires of the fugitives.

At night the fugitives wander about in the neighbourhood.

They dig up the potatoes, take all the cabbages, drag off stacks of corn waiting to be ground, and piles of hay.

At some places where the fugitives have been out and foraged, the people complain:

—Lord a' mercy! The oats which were being brought to us have fallen into the hands of the fugitives on the road. So much oats was sent, and we have the