This because he had once passed the Shool early one Jewish New Year's Day, had peeped through the window, and seen the ram's horn blower standing in his white shroud, armed with the Shofar, and suddenly a heartrending voice broke out with Min ha-Mezar, and Maxim, taking his feet on his shoulders, had arrived home more dead than alive. There was very nearly a commotion. The priest wanted to persuade him that the Jews had tried to obtain his blood. So the two children grew into youth as enemies. Their fathers died, and the increased difficulties of their position increased their enmity. The same year saw them called to military service, from which they had both counted on exemption as the only sons of widowed mothers; only Israel's mother had lately died, bequeathing to the Czar all she had--a soldier; and Maxim's mother had united herself to a second provider--and there was an end of the two "only sons!" Neither of them wished to serve; they were too intellectually capable, too far developed mentally, too intelligent, to be turned all at once into Russian soldiers, and too nicely brought up to march from Port Arthur to Mukden with only one change of shirt. They both cleared out, and stowed themselves away till they 'fell separately into the hands of the military. They came together again under the fortress walls of Mukden. They ate and hungered sullenly round the same cooking pot, received punches from the same officer, and had the same longing for the same home. Israel had a habit of talking in his sleep, and, like a born Bessarabian, in his Yiddish mixed with a large portion of Roumanian words. One night, lying in the barracks among the other soldiers, and sunk in sleep after a hard day, Struli began to talk sixteen to the dozen. He called out names, he quarrelled, begged pardon, made a fool of himself--all in his sleep. It woke Maxim, who overheard the homelike names and phrases, the name of his native town. He got up, made his way between the rows of sleepers, and sat down by Israel's pallet, and listened. Next day Maxim managed to have a large helping of porridge, more than he could eat, and he found Israel, and set it before him. "Maltzimesk!" said the other, thanking him in Roumanian, and a thrill of delight went through Maxim's frame. The day following, Maxim was hit by a Japanese bullet, and there happened to be no one beside him at the moment. The shock drove all the soldier-speech out of his head. "Help, I am killed!" he called out, and fell to the ground. Struli was at his side like one sprung from the earth, he tore off his Four-Corners, and made his comrade a bandage. The wound turned out to be slight, for the bullet had passed through, only grazing the flesh of the left arm. A few days later Maxim was back in the company. "I wanted to see you again, Struli," he said, greeting his comrade in Roumanian.