"We shall pass a spring soon after we start for Sohaczev."
"My God, but I've a thirst. Is there nothing nearer?"
"Only the House supply," she answered sadly. "And that must be under the ruins."
Meanwhile, Ian and the two girls were working their hardest, Ian loosening the earth with the pick and helping to shovel it up. This they did with their hands, having nothing else. The Countess helped, too, but they all insisted on the Father resting before his long tramp. His seventy-odd years could ill withstand the experiences of the past twelve months. His rheumatism had grown worse, and the wound he took in the winter, during the kitchen fight, never properly healed. A surgeon Ian had called in said it would take years before the skin hardened over the bone. They did manage to get a kind of cap, of aluminum, to protect the skull. But whereas a quiet life and comfort would have done him good, all they could give him that year was worry and hardship.
Ostap looked on but did not offer to help dig up the "treasure" as he called it. He did say how sorry he was not to have found a spade as well as a pick; but that was all. He did not want them to suspect of a desire to pilfer their jewels.
The three worked hard for some time, then Vanda got up to stretch her legs, cramped by the posture.
"We haven't hit the right spot," she said.
"I believe you're right," agreed Ian. "We've not struck cement even."
"If only we had another pick," sighed Minnie. "We'd get on quicker."
"What are they saying?" Ostap asked the priest.
Despite protests he disappeared; whilst Ian was still measuring the paces, he came back, not with a pick but a spade. Ian, seeing the girls were exhausted with work and anxiety, asked him to use it.
"Ah--you trust me," said the Cossack. "I'll help with pleasure."
They set to work again; silence holding the little group. Even the talkative Ostap did not speak.
He had said it so many times only to find stones that the others took no notice. However, he and Ostap plodded on--and at last Ian held up a small object.
"The thermos bottle," he said, giving it to his mother.
In the dark she and the girls opened it, counting the black pearls. They were intact.
"Work carefully now," Ian warned Ostap. "The rest are in waterproof packets--we shall miss them."
