Page:The Way of the Cross, Doroshevich, tr. Graham, 1916.djvu/59

 Rh In the meantime:

—Are there many fugitives coming through?

—Not a great many.

But with each ten versts of our onward journey we meet the fugitives more and more often, and the lines of them become longer and longer.

There, on the beautiful shore of the winding River Izvera, in one of its curves, under an acacia, in the clear sweet air a little smoke is curling.

Ten covered carts are encamped there.

The folk have stopped to cook dinner.

Near them sits a policeman in a cart.

I go nearer.

The policeman is talking to an old woman lying on the ground.

—Don't you know that a sick person mustn't lie on the ground like this? You're old, but you must understand that.

The old woman only moans quietly.