"They must be borne," he answered stolidly. "Besides, I knew beforehand that it was a God-forsaken country. There are no human beings here at all except His Majesty's faithful troops, who have to fight these savages. We march for hours without seeing tree or bush, nothing but sky, rocks and sunshine, and by way of variety sometimes encounter a bora, during which one can see and hear nothing. If you were not here, your reverence, there would be no Christianity; we've fallen among Turks and pagans. Oh, my beautiful, blessed Tyrol! The Lord created you specially for His own pleasure, but I should like to know what He could have been thinking of when He made Krivoscia."
George had not yet attained familiarity with the name, which fell in a perfectly barbarous accent from his lips, but the priest said reprovingly:
"Our Lord knows best why He has distributed His gifts in one way and not another-- So you have reported that Baron von Steinach and his men are coming to the fort?"
"Yes; they'll be here in half an hour, and I hope still alive."
"Why? Are there wounded soldiers with the troops?"
"No, when I left they were all well, but a man isn't sure of his life an hour here. How often, when we were marching merrily along, singing the songs of our beautiful Tyrol, those accursed savages have unexpectedly attacked us! One moment the wilderness is perfectly empty, and all at once there are the fellows, as if they had grown out of the rocks, and their bullets are whizzing around our heads. They never make a stand anywhere; if we try to catch them in a ravine they are on the heights, and when we climb up they are down below again. If it comes to a real attack, the whole troop vanishes in the twinkling of an eye, as if the cliffs had swallowed them up, and we halt, utterly bewildered, look at each other, and count our ears and noses to see whether we still have them all."
This vivid and exhaustive description of Krivoscian campaigning brought a passing smile to Father Leonhard's face.
"If any one should hear you, he would suppose you a bad soldier who only did your duty under compulsion," he replied. "Yet I was able to write to your parents a few days ago that their George distinguished himself on every occasion, and his superior officers gave him the highest praise for his fearlessness."
George looked very proud of the eulogy bestowed upon him, but modestly disclaimed it.
"I learned that by watching my lieutenant. Whenever he meets the insurgents he always sends them home with broken heads. Perhaps you have written to Baroness von Steinach, too, your reverence?"