"Courage, brother," answered Mendel, cheerfully. "See, there are houses ahead of us. We can surely find something to eat." The waifs dragged their way to a weather-beaten hut and knocked at the door. A mild-visaged woman responded and surveyed the travel-stained children with something like compassion. "We are hungry," pleaded Mendel. "Please give us a bite of food." "Who are you and where do you come from?" queried the woman. "We are trying to reach Kief, where we have friends," answered Mendel. "Please do not let us starve on the road." "Jews, eh?" asked the woman, suspiciously. "Well, no matter; you don't look any too happy. Come in and warm yourselves." The boys were soon sitting before a roaring kitchen-fire, while the woman busied herself with providing them with a meal. Tempting, indeed, did it appear to the famished lads; but could they eat it? Was it prepared according to the Jewish ritual? It was a momentous question to Mendel, and only his little brother's pinched and miserable countenance could have induced him to violate the law which to his conception was as sacred as life itself. While Mendel debated, Jacob solved the knotty problem by attacking the savory dishes before him, and his brother reluctantly followed his example. "It may be a sin, but God will forgive us," was his mental reflection as he greedily swallowed the food. The woman looked on in admiration at the huge appetites of the lads. She plied them with questions, to which she received vague replies, and finally contented herself with the thought that these were perhaps wayward children who had run away from home and were now penitently trying to find their way back. After the boys were rested, they thanked their kind hostess and set out again upon their wanderings with no other compass than blind chance, but avoiding the highways for fear of being captured by the soldiers. On they went for hours, Mendel supporting his complaining brother and whispering words of hope and courage. By noon the sky had become darker, the storm more threatening. The wind blew in furious gusts over the dismal country, and an occasional rumbling of distant thunder filled the weary lads with dread. The road they had chosen was absolutely deserted. It lay through a bleak, scarcely habitable prairie, a landscape common enough in that part of Russia; and stones and brambles did much to retard their progress. There was not a place of shelter in sight. The outlook was sufficiently unpromising to dismay the most resolute. Jacob sat down upon a stone and began to weep. "I can go no further," he sobbed. "I am tired and sick." "But you must come," pleaded his brother. "See what a storm is gathering. If we remain here we shall be drenched. We must find shelter." "Go alone, brother," said the little one. "I'll stay here."