“But how was it that the aeroplanes could not bring in enough concentrated foodstuff to keep you ahead of hunger?”
Henri had recalled the many expeditions in which Billy and himself had participated to serve that purpose.
“An impossible task,” asserted Stanislaws. “With the rations entirely exhausted, there were one hundred and twenty thousand mouths to feed in the garrison alone, and civilian inhabitants, too, clamoring for food.”
“It must have been awful,” was Henri’s sympathetic comment.
Stanislaws passed a hand before his eyes, as if to shut out the terrible memory.
“Is there anything we can possibly do for you, Stanny?” earnestly asked Billy.
The haggard soldier in faded blue at first gave the negative by shaking his head. Then he suddenly asked:
“By any chance, do you suppose that you will visit Przemysl in your present routing?”
“I’m not sure,” replied Billy, “though it is evident that our scouts started here to get in touch with the Russian forces whose strength may be diverted elsewhere, now that the fortress has surrendered.”
“If it be so, and you are again privileged to move at will within the enclosure, there is a favor that you may safely, I believe, do for me.”