"Of course not. But look, what is that?"
On the horizon they saw columns of smoke and a dull red glare; others had not been so fortunate.
The old priest had been trembling with fear all the time lest the Colonel should remember Joseph, and make him an excuse for burning the place. But he had evidently forgotten all about the incident last autumn. So much the better.
Next morning Ian, Vanda and Minnie, with a couple of maids, started out with the reaping machine. Ian, of course, was in charge, and the girls, willing but inexperienced, were to work under him. Since the Colonel's visit he had been in a perfect fever of haste to cut whatever corn was ripe. He left his mother and Father Constantine at the home farm, with admonitions that neither of them must overwork. These two old friends were in the farmyard when some of the Cossacks who had been so busy about the village and amidst the remains of the home forest, came clattering up on their little horses. A young officer was with them. He saluted the Countess, and said civily, in broken Polish:
"Lady--I must ask you for that reaping machine I saw here yesterday."
"Oh--are you going to reap our fields for us?" she returned gaily. "That would be very nice of you."
The youth looked sheepishly at her, but said nothing.
"Well--what do you want it for?" she insisted.
"Lady--I'm sorry. But your reaping machine contains steel and other metals; and we have orders to take every ounce of steel and iron and copper away."
The Countess looked at her chaplain in silent consternation. The old man, ever ready to help her, sharply told the officer to be off. The Cossack was not so civil to him.