He stopped two peasants and asked them where he was. They pointed out the directions of Russia and of Moldavai.
"You're a Russian," said one the peasants, speaking in a dialect known in the Bukovina.
Korniloff nodded, waiting to see what the result might be, but his confession evidently evoked sympathy.
"See!" said the man, taking him by the arm. "Follow yonder brook, cross the hill as straight as you can, and to-night you will find a shepherd's hut on the right of the road at the bottom of the hill. Go there and ask for Mathias Meltzer; he will help you."
With a cheery "good day" they left him, and Korniloff trudged on. After a stiff day's march he reached the hut and found the old shepherd, with a younger man. Korniloff repeated the message he had been told to give.
"And who are you? An escaped Russian?" asked the old man as he sat beside his wood fire and shaded his hand to look at the stranger. "The Russian outposts are half a day's march from here," he continued. "I often hear the guns. To-morrow the Roumanians come in on the side of the Allies. Soon the Russians and the Roumanians will join hands and all this land will be laid waste."
"Will you take me to the Russians?" asked Korniloff. "It will be worth your while."
The old man pondered for a time. "I don't mind helping a Russian," he said, at last. "They've always been decent to me. Lie you down now and get some sleep, for we must start before daybreak."
He handed his guest a little bread, coarse cheese, and some onions. Korniloff made a meal and was soon asleep.