They nearly starved, however, in spite of the birds and hares that Shamarin skillfully succeeded in trapping. When they halted on the twenty second night after leaving the hut, in a thick wood overlooking the Amur, it was evident that a crisis had been reached. They were worn out with incessant traveling, faint and sick from hunger, and all the shelter they had was this strip of wood—their only food a couple of raw quail. For themselves the two brave men cared little, but that Vera, whose lips never uttered a word of complaint, should have to endure such suffering was more than they could stand. Especially aggravating to them tonight was the sight of the post station, a mile away, where lights shone cheerily through the twilight from houses in which men were eating and drinking and sitting by warm fires. “Something must be done,” declared Sandoff earnestly. “We can’t stand this another day. We must have nourishing food or we can go no farther.” “And where shall we get it?” asked Shamarin moodily. “The outlook is bad enough. We have come less than one third of the distance, and still have seven hundred miles before us.” For once Vera had no words of cheer for her companions. She knew they had defined the situation truly, and that nothing she could say would help them. Her eyes sought the ground sadly and remained there, fixed with repugnance on the miserable birds that Shamarin had taken from his snares that morning. “Yes, something must be done,” repeated Sandoff, “and without delay—tonight. I will go down and reconnoiter around yonder post station. If I don’t return soon you need not be alarmed, for I intend to be very careful.” His companions made no attempt to dissuade him, except that Shamarin offered to go in his place. But Sandoff would not hear of this. “It is best for me to go,” he said firmly. “My knowledge of government regulations at these post stations will help me if I get into a tight place.” He hurriedly exchanged the coat he was wearing for the dark green Cossack cloak—knowing that he would attract less attention if seen in this guise. The muff shaped fur cap he had been wearing constantly, and when Shamarin handed him the rifle he looked a thorough Cossack soldier. The deception was still further assisted by the tangled beard and mustache he had grown since his escape from the mines. Thus equipped he bade farewell to his companions, and struck off at a rapid pace through the forest. He had no definite purpose in view—merely a vague hope that he might in some manner procure a supply of food.