“Roch!” vociferated Michael, breaking off a large branch and looking daggers. “I’ll shout the news through Lipka, and we will not give you up!” “No fooling!—Roch! Get behind the haystack and into the rye this instant. Wiggle into some furrow, hide yourself well, and stay till I call you.—Quick! ere they are here!” Roch snatched up some papers he had in the room and handed them to Yuzka, who was in bed: “Hide them under yourself, do not give them up,” he whispered. And just as he was, without hat or capote, he darted into the orchard and vanished like a stone in the waters: they could just see the rye undulating slightly beyond the haystack. “Now, Gregory, off with you! Hanka, to your work! Go, Michael—and not a word of this!” Antek commanded, sitting down again to his interrupted labour. Again he set to notching the edges of his reaping-hooks, evenly and calmly as before. Now and again he would hold the edge up to the light, glancing the while in every direction about him; for the barking of the dogs was growing louder, and in a little he could hear the heavy tread of the approaching gendarmes, the jingling of their sabres, and the sound of their voices. His heart was palpitating, his hands were shaking; yet he managed to go on, notching evenly, regularly, with rhythmical strokes, never raising his eyes till the men were standing before him. “Is Roch in your hut?” asked the Voyt, mortally afraid. Antek looked around at the group, and replied with great deliberation: “He must be in the village, I suppose: I have not set eyes on him since this morning.” “Open your doors!” thundered the commanding officer. “Why, they are open!” Antek growled, getting up from his bench. The officer and some of his men went in, while the others watched the orchard and outhouses. About half the village was now outside in the road, looking on in silence, while the cottage was searched and ransacked thoroughly. Antek had to point out and open everything, while Hanka sat by the window with the baby at her breast. The search was of course fruitless; but they sought everywhere, and were so careful to overlook nothing that one of them even peered under the bed! Some little books, strapped together, were lying on the table. The officer pounced upon them, and set to examine them with the utmost care. “How have ye come by these?” “Belike Roch has left them there ... and there they lie.” “The mistress here cannot read,” the Voyt explained. “Can anyone amongst you read?” “No,” Antek returned; “they teach us at school so well that now no one is able even to spell out the words in our prayer-books!” The officer handed the little books to a subordinate, and passed round to the other side of the hut. “What’s here?—A sick child?” he said, taking a step towards Yuzka. “Yes. She has been lying there for a couple of weeks: smallpox.” He retired hurriedly into the passage. “Was Roch a lodger in this cabin?” he asked of the Voyt.