He had found what remained of the Prussians' feast, so rudely interrupted by shells from Kosczielna. He had three huge loaves of rye bread, brandy, which the Countess insisted on Father Constantine's having some of, three tins of preserved food (it was too dark to read the labels) and cheese. He had boots for himself, taken, he said, from a dead trooper, and a jersey from the same source. The women shuddered at the thought of wearing clothes stripped from a corpse, but he was quite pleased with them. Then he had a water-bottle, three nose-bags and two horse-cloths. These were a good deal torn, but Vanda and Minnie, in light frocks, were very glad of them.
"Only three loaves," he said regretfully. "But I ate the other on the spot. I heard you say you had had supper and I had touched no food for twenty-four hours. These nose-bags will do to carry the food in, one for the priest and one each for us men."
Quickly he distributed his booty in the three nosebags.
"There," he said when it was done. "We shall not have a feast, but at least something to put in our stomachs. Mine was empty before I went over to them. They are all sleeping like the dead they lie by, except the wounded, who groan and yell." He turned to the Countess. "And where can I fill this water-bottle without getting poisoned, my Lady?"
"We shall pass a spring soon after we start for Sohaczev."
"My God, but I've a thirst. Is there nothing nearer?"
"Only the House supply," she answered sadly. "And that must be under the ruins."
Meanwhile, Ian and the two girls were working their hardest, Ian loosening the earth with the pick and helping to shovel it up. This they did with their hands, having nothing else. The Countess helped, too, but they all insisted on the Father resting before his long tramp. His seventy-odd years could ill withstand the experiences of the past twelve months. His rheumatism had grown worse, and the wound he took in the winter, during the kitchen fight, never properly healed. A surgeon Ian had called in said it would take years before the skin hardened over the bone. They did manage to get a kind of cap, of aluminum, to protect the skull. But whereas a quiet life and comfort would have done him good, all they could give him that year was worry and hardship.
Ostap looked on but did not offer to help dig up the "treasure" as he called it. He did say how sorry he was not to have found a spade as well as a pick; but that was all. He did not want them to suspect of a desire to pilfer their jewels.
The three worked hard for some time, then Vanda got up to stretch her legs, cramped by the posture.