But Sabas turned the ox toward home, and drove it at a rate that surprised that slow animal. The boys ran along beside the cart. But when they had gone a little way, one lifted Peter into the cart, so he would not be left behind. They did not speak, and Peter looked at their faces in terror. He knew that something dreadful had happened. When he reached home, he found Maria hurrying to gather the food together. She looked less forbidding than the others, and he ventured to ask her what was the matter.
“The Turks are coming,” she said, “we must go to the mountains, or they will slay us.”
Peter helped Maria with the packing. The men were busy getting their weapons ready. Maria was more fortunate than some of her neighbors. She had the oxcart to carry a few of her possessions. Some of them could take only what they could carry on their shoulders. Soon the whole village was under way.
Maria had been regarding Peter thoughtfully, and at length spoke to her husband in a low tone.
“Yes,” said Sabas, “it would be better, for we know not what is before us.”
Then she explained to Peter that they thought it better that he should go on to a town that lay to the southwest. They would be in the mountains for some time, facing they knew not what hardships. He had been a good boy, and they knew where he could find a good home. He was to take a three days’ journey along the road that ran west. Then he would come to a village of tall houses. He was to ask for one Boerasa Helena,
