There were no Scouts in Lodz besides his tired self and the exhausted
boy back in the hospital cot. Ivan thought of Warren with a gratitude
that he could not have put in words. Warren had taught him so many
things. With Boy Scout principles and Boy Scout training, he had
changed from a haughty, helpless young aristocrat to a helpful,
well-balanced boy, perfectly capable of taking care of himself and of
assisting others as well. Ivan felt the change; he was so reliant, so
strong. A few months ago, he would have stood helpless in his present
situation, conscious only that he was Prince Ivan Ivanovich and must be
looked after. Now, as he faced the morning light, hungry, ragged, and
with only the American nickel in his pocket, he smiled at fate and went
on without fear to enter whatever adventure might come.

The only thing that worried him was the want of enough money to buy
himself a bit of bread and a dried fish. He reflected that he could
easily have asked the Princess for enough to supply his wants, but he
would not turn back.

Ahead of him, an old man with a heavily laden cart was having trouble
with a skittish horse. In vain he pulled on the lines. In vain he
threatened and coaxed. The young creature would not stand, and while
the old man worried with it, vegetables and long sticks of black bread
were slyly stolen out of the end of his cart. Ivan approached.

"Let me hold the horse, father," he said, taking it by the bridle as he
spoke.

The old man threw his hands up in a gesture of thankfulness.

"Blessings on you, my son!" he cried. "These thieves will ruin me