That one day, a week later, two tired and travel-worn boy-mendicants should drag themselves with slow and weary feet across the frontier line between Jiardasia and Samavia, was not an incident to awaken¹ suspicion or even to attract attention. War and hunger and anguish² had left the country stunned³ and broken. Since the worst had happened, no one was curious as to what would befall them next. If Jiardasia herself had become a foe⁴, instead of a friendly neighbor, and had sent across the border galloping⁵ hordes⁶ of soldiery, there would only have been more shrieks⁷, and home-burnings, and slaughter⁸ which no one dare resist. But, so far, Jiardasia had remained peaceful. The two boys—one of them on crutches⁹—had evidently traveled far on foot. Their poor clothes were dusty and travel-stained, and they stopped and asked for water at the first hut across the line. The one who walked without crutches had some coarse bread in a bag slung¹¹ over his shoulder, and they sat on the roadside and ate it as if they were hungry. The old grandmother who lived alone in the hut sat and stared at them without any curiosity. She may have vaguely¹² wondered why any one crossed into Samavia in these days. But she did not care to know their reason. Her big son had lived in a village which belonged to the Maranovitch and he had been called out to fight for his lords. He had not wanted to fight and had not known what the quarrel was about, but he was forced to obey. He had kissed his handsome wife and four sturdy children, blubbering aloud when he left them. His village and his good crops and his house must be left behind. Then the Iarovitch swept through the pretty little cluster of homesteads which belonged to their enemy. They were mad with rage because they had met with great losses in a battle not far away, and, as they

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