In the early evening, the men awakened. They jumped up and shook themselves, saying, “Let us get going.” We were leaving the horses and wagon behind and taking off on foot. They looked back several times to make sure the horses were safe. I had become fond of those horses and hated the thought of leaving them. Soon we were three abreast. We began descending the hill, then went up and down several times until we could see the village more clearly. One of the men gave the other directions and then returned to his horses. The second man and I started down the small hill to the village. As I looked back I saw in the dusk only the figure of our departed companion going up the hill. Now my hostility toward him was lost in the widening distance between us. How long could I walk in my huge and uncomfortable boots? Would my wounded left leg hold up? In spite of all the care I had received, it continued to pain. The ground we walked on was rough. It was hard to keep my feet from sliding around in my boots. It was dark when we reached the village. Several dogs barked and ran out in the street, and then turned back to their houses. Here and there in the windows flickered an occasional candle or a kerosene lamp. All was quiet in the streets as if the villagers had turned in for the night. We kept walking until we reached a small dimly-lighted house. My companion gave two short knocks on the window and a tall lean man with a cane came to the door. He held the door open for us and said, “I have been expecting you for the last two nights.” I extended my hand to him. He held it in both of his hands, kissed it, and looked into my eyes, without a word. A tear rolled down his cheek. He stood in silence ... overcome with emotion, then said; “My dear, you must be tired and hungry after such a trying trip.” His voice and words were touching and more friendly and warm than I had heard in several months. He drew me to a chair at a table and when I was seated the two men sat on either side of me. XXXII ALEXANDER “Did you have any trouble getting here?” my host asked. “Very little,” answered my companion. “We used a few matches--only three are left--to set fire to some hay in order to drive away two wolves. Matches are scarce these days.” “Do you want some?” asked my host, handing him some loose ones. “Thanks,” said my companion, “It is very pleasant here, but I must not stay long.” “Marushka,” called our host, “tea, please.” Immediately thinly sliced ham with cheese and bread were placed on the table, also a small samovar. My host was surprised when I refused the meat (a great luxury it was) but since Ekaterinburg I had not been able to stand the sight of it, remembering the shortage. I felt guilty taking sugar in my tea, but my host insisted and I took a lump but did not stir the tea in anticipation of a second glass. It was refreshing to us all. As we finished, my companion said to me, “You are indebted to this gentleman, not to me. He saved your life.”