walks. Once a timber fell on his foot in the woods and from that time
on he had pains in it, but since he did not go down to church, he read
in his large old Bible. Today he had gone to church and the boys went
to meet him. They missed him very much. He ordered them to memorize
the reading of the Gospel for the day and each had to recite
separately.

Suddenly Petrik became silent; he drew his comrade aside and pointed
with a silent nod of the head toward a cut-down tree lying in the
woods. There sat Bacha Filina with his head resting in the palms of
his hands as if something were pressing him down to the black ground.

"Let us go up to the Bacha," advised Petrik; "he seems to be sad."

"Truly very sad," worried Ondrejko. "Perhaps the sadness will pass
from him when we come to him."

The crackling of dry branches under the bare feet of the boys roused
Bacha. He looked around. The children stood a short distance off.
Should they go to him--or not?

"Where are you going?" he called to them. They came running. "Only to
meet you, Bacha."

"Well, why did you come to meet me?" His usually rough voice seemed to
sound different. "We were lonesome without you," haltingly admitted
Ondrejko, and presently they sat on the moss carpet at the feet of
Bacha.

"And why, Bacha, were you sitting here so sadly?" Petrik looked