"It has saved our lives," said Warren solemnly. "I am starved and would have eaten this stuff sure as nails. Gee, what an escape! Let us work out of these ropes and get out of here. Perhaps, we can get those cutthroats before they got away from the city."
For some moments the boys both wiggled and twisted to free themselves. It was in vain. So closely were they wedged between the benches and table, and so cleverly were their feet tied with rope and pieces of board to wedge them, that it was absolutely an impossibility to release themselves. All through the night they sat there, at intervals renewing their efforts to get free, and with despair growing in their hearts. They began to realize the seriousness of the situation. When Warren's watch told them that morning had come, they found themselves looking wistfully at the food. Its scent was in their famished nostrils. Warren drew a piece of fish toward him.
"I wonder if it is all poisoned," he said.
With a cry Ivan reached out and swept the food from the table. "There!" he exclaimed, "I found myself wondering the same thing. If we die, we die—but not that way, my Warren. We will be free yet. Ivanovich does not die today."
But Warren, weakened from, his hurts, laid his head down on his arms with a groan.
Ivan looked at him pityingly. The loss of his little sister had almost crushed Warren. He who was always the leading spirit, quick and resourceful, was for the moment crushed.
Ivan did not speak. He respected the grief of his friend. He knew that soon he would be himself again, planning for success.
Late that same afternoon three Boy Scouts sauntered down the dark and twisted alley leading to the river. The section of the city was strange to them, and it was now so wrecked by the recent bombardment that the enemy themselves shunned it. The poor creatures that had once found lodging in those dark holes of want and famine had all fled at the first gunshot; and the boys idled here and there, looking at the marks of the shots, and picking up many a queer memento of the battle.
Warsaw had fallen; but the spirit of boys is the same all the world over. In their imaginations, even while the smoke of battle still hung over the city, they had planned other and victorious battles. They had already saved Warsaw for a wonderful golden future.
As they climbed around, one of them pointed to the broken plaster on the ground.