Near the camp was the shepherds' cooking hut, made of reeds tied together and with a hole in the top for the escape of the smoke. The hut looked like a corn shock with a door in one side. This door was open and Banda Bela saw a fire burning brightly, a pot hung over the embers, and a smell of _kasa_ arose, as a tall shepherd tossed the meal and bacon into a kind of cake. Marushka had strayed away from the Gypsies and now stood beside Banda Bela shyly watching the cooking in silence. She was a quiet little thing, with her golden hair unlike the bold, black-eyed little Gypsy children who rolled around the ground, half clad, snatching food from the pot and gnawing bones like hungry dogs. "Who is this child?" asked one of the shepherds. "She is no Gypsy. What is your name, child?" "I am Marushka," she answered sweetly. "Who are you?" "I am a shepherd," he said, smiling at her. "Do you tend sheep all day?" she demanded. "No, once I was one of the _juhasz_,[2] but now I am past that. I am one of the _gulyas_,[3] and in another year I shall be among the _csikos_."[4] "Where are your oxen?" asked Marushka. "There in the plain," he said, pointing to what looked like a great, still, white sea some distance away. As he spoke the sea seemed to break into waves, first rippling, then stormy, as the oxen rose to their feet, many of them tossing their heads in the air and bellowing loudly. They were immense creatures, perfectly white and very beautiful, with great dark eyes and intelligent faces. "There are my children," said the shepherd. "But I am afraid there is a wind storm coming, for they show fear only of storm or fire." He watched the herd for a few moments, but though they snuffed the air they finally settled down quietly to rest again. "Let us eat," said the shepherd. "Perhaps the storm has passed over." How good the _kasa_ tasted. The little Tziganes had never eaten it before, and they enjoyed it thoroughly. The sun was sinking in the west, and the yellow fields of grain were gleaming as if tipped with gold. Dusk deepened, stars peeped out of the violet heavens. Here and there leaped sudden flame, as some shepherd, feeling lonely, signalled thus to a friend across the plain. Mists rose white and ghost-like; the land seemed turned to silver. The tired children turned to seek their camp to sleep when-- "Lie down!" cried one of the shepherds. "Lie flat on your faces and do not stir! A storm comes!" So urgent was the call that Banda Bela dropped at once flat upon the grass, grasping Marushka's hand and pulling her down beside him.