Presently the woman spread the army blanket on the ground, motioning me to sit on it, and opened a lunch basket. She had some hard boiled eggs, one for each of us, fried fish, bread. It was a sumptuous feast, and a glorious feeling there under the shaggy trees, the profusion of pines and birches, under the deep blue sky—a typical Siberian scene. The horse stood still munching. The leaves hung motionless, the birds were quiet; all nature seemed to breath in suspended and sympathetic silence as we ate our lunch hungrily.
The great sacrifice these people were making impressed me once more and I felt appreciative. In no time all three were asleep. In order to make it easy for everybody I had an urge to run away, but because of the effort these people were making, my conscience would not permit it. Also probably at the “little place” they knew of, someone might be waiting for me.
The little brook rumbled on in the quiet of the countryside. It alone defied silence. The trees stood in a colored hush of yellow, red and green. The white birch and the trembling aspen beat their wings. All this indicated it was early fall and nature was ready for its long sleep. After taking these details of the setting, I realized I, too, was exhausted.
The men were harnessing the horse and the woman was packing when I awoke. She was waiting to fold my blanket. I was chagrined to have been such a poor sentinel, but no harm had resulted. Now the men were ready. The woman started for the wagon, so I followed, though I could have enjoyed nature in that spot indefinitely. In a few minutes I was back in my coop; the men and the woman were in their places. The wagon bent forward several times and we were on our way again.
We moved steadily and confidently. The way must have been perfectly familiar to our driver. I did not hear any other passing wagons, nor was I conscious of passing through any village. I kept thinking about the beautiful spot in which we had lunched. That day God and nature were fused together. There in that beautiful resting place the family had been with me in spirit guiding me in the very air I breathed, caressing and encouraging me. I imagined I could hear Father’s quieting words. Even now I thought those words might be directing us. The driver seemed so sure of the way I became less alone, less suffocated, less desperate. I could lie quietly. Transcended, I simmered in wishful dreams. This was the second night on the road. The wagon rumbled. Another abrupt turn awakened me. I listened. The horse halted. One of the men was opening the door of the coop. He pulled me out and set me on my feet. We were in the midst of a thicket. The third stop on our journey. It was twilight, the sky still holding its sunset colors. The colors faded into the gathering darkness.
The men worked hurriedly, nervously and anxiously to get through feeding and watering the horse. It was a short stretching period, only long enough to eat from our basket and let the horse finish his feed. Not one word broke the evening silence, not one moment was wasted. Once more I lay in the coop and the horse started out again.
Even in the dark I could feel a certainty of direction. The horse’s feet met the ground as if the way was not strange to him. We went on about the same pace as during daylight. Each moment I was prepared for any difficulty which might arise. So far there had been no trouble. Would we travel all night? I could not sleep in the chilling darkness and I did not suppose any of the others did. Suddenly a lurch to the left, a short run and a halt. No sounds, only poignant stillness. One of the men helped me out of the cage. I found myself standing beside a house. The woman opened the door and walked in. They all seemed to know this house. Though it was dark, they made their way around, and lighted a candle. The woman led me to a bed. After she finished with me, she went out of the room.
It seemed but a moment before the woman was awakening me from my sleep. I was getting used to the inevitable. It was still dark when she came in with a candle in her hand. She guided me to a table where milk and bread was laid out for me. Then she led me outdoors to the wagon which stood ready. I could see clearly by the light of the stars.
To my surprise, we did not stop at the rear of the wagon. We passed to the front where one of the men already sat in the driver’s seat. The second man turned as if to help me up. I looked at the woman, seeking an explanation. She put her lips to my forehead, pressed my hand, then gently pushed me toward the man who helped me to the seat beside the driver. The other man climbed after me. The wagon started, it had two horses this time. We had left the woman behind! I suddenly realized the woman had said good-bye. I was never to see her again. We turned out of the yard, onto the country road. A man on each side of me and the woman gone. I had misgivings. The men sat rigid, gazing at the pre-dawn blackness. They were on the alert. To them, leaving the woman behind was a planned milestone in their hazardous task. Her part was finished, now it was up to them to carry on.
The woman was protection to me, the last remnant of a feminine world. We were still in danger, judging by their alertness. I wondered why I had not returned to the coop. These men were stoical and brave to attempt this journey at all. Their continual watchfulness inspired confidence. One of these men had annoyed me with his questions several days ago. Now he sat beside me.