"Our Rabbi."
"What does he know about it?"
"He had it from the transport officer."
Ostap, listening, looked at the Jew with mingled scorn, wonder and admiration.
"You Jews are strange people," was his verdict. "Here have we been trying to get information from the authorities for half an hour, one a great gentleman in these parts, the other a Cossack officer anxious to rejoin his troop, and nobody will give us a good word. Yet this Jew horse-dealer here knows everything."
"He may be wrong," said Ian. "They often are."
"But I am right," said Hermann. "You'll see for yourself I am right if you wait in the station. Meanwhile, I must go, for a messenger calls me home." And off he went.
Ostap looked down the forlorn road which led from the station to the town and pointed to a Red Cross flag flying from a distant building.
"There are wounded left. Our people will try to get them away. We may not have to tramp after all. I'll go to that transport officer again."
"Don't. He'll only swear at you. Let us get on the train, if it comes, without asking anybody's leave."