Run, Boy, Run Page 4

  "Just a minute, I'll let you out!" It was the woman, standing outside.

  Srulik calmed down. He heard banging noises. The woman smashed the lock with an ax and opened the door.

  "Run, boy!" she said. "Run!"

  5. Alone in the Forest

  Srulik returned to the forest. It seemed happy to have him back. Although it was the same forest he had left that morning, it was also a different one. It was his and Yosele's forest that protected and saved them. For the first time, Srulik felt love for it. He walked deeper and deeper into it until he came to a dark, entangled hiding place.

  In the following weeks, he slept in trees and learned to climb them like a monkey. He clambered up them and leaped from tree to tree by swinging on the branches. His shoes had fallen apart long ago. The soles of his feet grew so tough that he could run on anything without feeling pain. He learned to move as stealthily as the forest animals and to treat infected scratches from bushes and vines by lancing them with a pine needle, squeezing out the pus, and disinfecting them with his own urine.

  In daytime, he rarely thought of his friends or felt lonely. He was too busy looking for food and water and observing everything around him. He was fascinated by every animal and bird, by every sound that he heard and movement that he saw.

  Yet at night, when he crawled into a tree, all kinds of thoughts ran through his mind. Of Yosele. Of Yankel. Of his mother. Even of Yoyneh the shoemaker. Sometimes he woke in a fright, startled by the cry of an animal or night bird.

  He stopped counting the days. He lived from minute to minute, hour to hour, morning to evening. He drank rainwater from puddles and ate berries. While roaming in the forest one day, he came to a brook like the one his gang of boys had camped by. From then on he returned to it every evening, guiding himself by the moss on the trees.

  He didn't have a slingshot, but he did have a good throwing arm. He took some smooth stones from the bottom of the brook, whittled a thick stick with his piece of glass, found a small clearing in the forest, and sat waiting in perfect stillness against the trunk of a tree. At first little animals appeared, darting in and out of sight. Although he didn't believe he could hit any of them with a stone, it was fun to watch them. Sometimes a chipmunk stopped to look at him anxiously, sniffing at him from a distance before it disappeared. After a while a doe came along with her fawn. He sat motionless while she stared at him, trying to guess what sort of creature he was. Then, with a single bound so quick it was almost invisible, they were gone. He went on sitting there. The noise of something large shuffling through the undergrowth told him wild boar were approaching. Soon a couple appeared with its piglets. They looked like the village pigs but were furry and had long, scary tusks. Srulik scrambled into a tree without waiting to see if they noticed him.

  He had climbed down and returned to his place when a hedgehog entered the clearing. Srulik fell upon it with his stick. The hedgehog rolled itself into a ball, its quills bristling. Srulik thrust his stick against the round form and pressed with all his might until it ceased to stir. Then he turned it over and slit its belly with his piece of glass. At night he lit a fire and singed the hedgehog over it. This made it easier to cut away the skin and quills. He carved chunks of meat and roasted them on a spit.

  A few days went by before he succeeded again. This time he killed a squirrel with a stone. He cut off its head, skinned and cleaned it, and rinsed it in the brook. Then, too hungry to wait, he ate it raw. He was no longer sure he wouldn't eat snails like Yosele.

  ***

  "What are you doing here, boy?"

  Srulik gave a start. He hadn't heard a human voice in a long while. It was the forester. Srulik recognized him. He just didn't recognize Srulik.

  "Picking berries," Srulik said.

  "I can see that."

  The man regarded him. He was barefoot like a farm boy and dressed in rags like a homeless orphan.

  "Where are your parents?"

  "I don't have any."

  "Where are you from?"

  Srulik shrugged.

  "Are you a Jew?"

  "No."

  "What's your name?"

  "Jurek."

  "What's your family's name?"

  "I don't know."

  The man took a minute to digest this. Then he said, "My sister is looking for a boy to take the cows and sheep to pasture."

  Srulik didn't know what to say. He remembered being locked in the bottle room. But he missed human contact. The man smiled at him. It looked like a smile he could trust. It was hard to believe he was someone who turned Jewish boys in to the Germans.

  "Look, son. When autumn comes, you'll die of hunger and cold. My sister's farm is outside the village. You'll be safe there."

  Srulik wanted to say that he was safe here too, but he didn't. He could tell the man knew he was Jewish. And yet he was asking him nicely. He could just as well have taken him prisoner by surprise.

  "My sister lives near the forest. You can always come back here," the forester added.

  "All right," Srulik agreed.

  He followed the forester. Although a patch of light shining through the trees made him think they were nearly out of the forest, it turned out to come from a large clearing in which the forester's house stood. A dog came to greet them, wagging its tail. Behind it came a woman with a baby.

  "Who do you have there?" she asked.

  "A boy to work for my sister."

  "Like the one who worked for us?"

  "Something like that."

  "Come, boy," the woman said. "I'll give you something to eat."

  She left him alone with a bowl of potatoes mashed with lard and fried onions. He gobbled it up. A half-eaten loaf of bread was on the table. Though he didn't know if it was meant for him, Srulik kept eating chunks from it even after he was bursting. When he couldn't stuff himself any more, he cut a last piece of bread and hid it in his pocket. Meanwhile, the forester led a horse from the stable, saddled it, and sat Srulik on the saddle in front of him.

  They rode as far as a small farmhouse next to a field of potatoes. The village beyond it was indeed close to the forest. Two barking dogs ran toward them, then calmed down and wagged their tails. A woman stepped out of the house. The forester dismounted and gave her a hug. Whispering something to her, he lowered Srulik from the horse. The dogs sniffed at him. He was frightened.

  "Don't be scared," the woman said. "They're friendly dogs."

  A few auxiliary buildings stood around the farmhouse. There was a barn, a sheep shed, and a storeroom. In front of the house were some fruit trees and rows of vegetables. Chickens ran in the yard. A sow lay on the ground, nursing her litter.

  "Wait for me here," the woman said, stepping into the house with her brother. Srulik stayed in the yard with the dogs. He took the bread from his pocket and chewed it slowly. The dogs approached him to see what he was eating. He rolled a ball of dough between his fingers and offered it to one of them. The dog lunged for it. Scared, he dropped it and the dog caught it in midair. Then the second dog came for his share. This time Srulik held on to the dough until the dog took it from him gently. He went on eating while feeding the dogs between one bite and the next. They're friendly, he thought, repeating the woman's words. He reached out to pet one. The other came to be petted, too.

  The forester and his sister emerged from the house. The man slung his rifle on his shoulder, mounted the horse, and nodded to Srulik. "Be a good boy," he told him.

  His sister waved. Then she told Srulik to come to the barn. The dogs followed them. Inside were three cows and two small calves lying in some straw. The woman showed Srulik how to fill their feed stalls with hay and how to lock the barn door when he left.

  "Now repeat what I told you," she said.

  He passed the test with flying colors.

  She took a bucket and sat down to milk the cows. Srulik watched.

  "Bring me that cup hanging on the wall," she said, pointing with her chin.

  He took a tin cup from i
ts rusty nail and brought it to her. She filled it with milk and handed it back.

  "Drink, son. What's your name?"

  "Jurek," Srulik said.

  He gulped the warm milk eagerly. When he had finished, the woman told him to rinse the cup beneath a spigot and hang it on its nail.

  "Why don't you milk her, too?" he asked, pointing to the third cow.

  "Don't you see how fat she is? She's about to give birth. When she does, she'll have milk."

  Next she brought him to the sheep shed. The four sheep bleated when they saw her. She showed Srulik how to feed them, took him to the well, and showed him how to draw water. The well was round and deep with a white brick enclosure and a little roof that rested on two columns. Beneath the roof was a log with a rope, attached to a crank. The other end of the rope dangled into the well. The woman leaned over the well and called down into it. Her voice echoed back. Srulik stood on tiptoe to clear the brick wall and called, "Aho-o-o-o-oyyy!"

  His call echoed too. The woman smiled at him and he smiled back. She showed him how to draw water by turning the log with the crank, but the crank was too high for him to reach. He looked around the yard, saw an empty crate, brought it to stand on, and cranked up a bucket of water. The woman praised him for using his head. She took the bucket and filled the cows' drinking trough. It took three buckets to be full. Then she showed Srulik how to fill the sheep's trough.

  "All right," she said. "Now go to sleep. In the morning I'll teach you to take the cows and the sheep to pasture."

  He looked around the shed. "Sleep where?"

  "Make yourself a bed with some straw."

  She called the dogs and left Srulik with the sheep. Sleeping on straw was fine with him. At home, his mother had stuffed their mattresses with it.

  In the middle of the night he was woken by the sound of rain. A cold wind blew through the open window of the shed. Too drowsy to think, he crawled in among the sheep and fell back asleep.

  When the woman came to wake him in the morning, it was a beautiful, sunny day. The only sign of the rain were the puddles in the yard. He followed her to the barn. She milked the cows and gave him a cup of milk to drink again. Then she slung a knapsack over his shoulder, handed him a walking stick, showed him how to drive the cows and sheep ahead of him, and accompanied him to the pasture. The two dogs came, too. It wasn't far from the farm to a broad, green meadow.

  "Your job is to keep the cows and sheep from wandering into the neighbor's field," she explained. "That's all you have to do. When the sun is low, bring them home."

  "How?"

  "Just say: 'Home, girls!' You'll see they know the way better than you do."

  She pointed to the knapsack and said, "There's a lunch for you there. Eat it at noontime."

  "How will I know when it's noontime?"

  The woman laughed.

  "That's when the sun is directly overhead. You'll learn. In the evening, you'll eat your supper with me."

  She called to the dogs. "Once you're friends with them," she said, "you can take them along with you."

  Srulik didn't wait for the sun to be overhead before examining the knapsack. There was half a loaf of bread, a bottle of water, and some farmer's cheese wrapped in newspaper. He ate some bread and cheese and left the rest for later.

  The work was easy. Although he was more frightened of the cows than of the sheep, he was able to head them off each time they neared the neighbor's field by shouting and waving his stick. To his surprise, they obeyed him. Instead of using their horns to drive him off and go where they wanted, they backed away and returned to the meadow.

  The day passed without a dull moment. He lay in the grass and watched the cows eat, cropping the grass with their tongues. Strangely, they had no upper teeth. The sheep, on the other hand, used their lips and teeth as though they were eating from a plate. When he was tired of studying them, he turned his attention to the grass in front of him. Beetles, ants, and other little bugs were crawling around in it. It was a different world from in the rotting leaves and pine needles on the damp forest floor. A brightly colored butterfly flew by and he raised himself on his elbows to follow its flight. He didn't want to risk hurting it by trying to catch it. He did try catching some darning needles—without success.

  Two boys were pasturing cows in the distance. He gazed at them, wondering if they might someday become friends. One was in charge of some cows and the other of a few sheep. In a meadow nearer to him was a girl. She was guarding two cows who were tethered to a stake in the ground.

  The sun began to set. Big and red, it sank into the clouds on the horizon. Srulik brandished his stick and called out:

  "Home, girls!"

  To his astonishment, the cows lifted their heads, mooed in agreement, and began walking back to the farmhouse. The sheep followed.

  They entered the farmyard. The dogs let out a few barks and ran to greet them, tails wagging. The woman fed the cows and sent Srulik to water and feed the sheep. By the time he returned to the barn, she was done milking. She told him to wash at the trough and join her in the house.

  The house had only one room, just like their old house in Blonie. The stove was lit and food was cooking, filling the room with a mouth-watering smell. The woman sat him at a table and filled two plates. On them was an omelet and noodles mixed with something orange.

  "It's pumpkin," said the woman. "Don't you know what that is?"

  "No," Srulik said.

  "I'll show you in the garden."

  She poured cream over it all and handed him a glass of milk.

  "After supper, you'll take off your clothes," she said. "I'll wash them and give you something to wear while they're drying."

  Later she gave him a grown man's nightshirt. Srulik took his butterfly and piece of glass from his pants pockets, undressed, and put it on.

  In the morning the woman told him, "I burned all your clothes. They were so full of lice that they would have walked away by themselves if I had put them on the floor."

  She gave him a large shirt with sleeves she had cut and a pair of pants she had shortened. The waist was folded over and had a rope belt.

  Now I look like Yosele, Srulik thought.

  He wore his new clothes to the pasture. After a while he decided to introduce himself to the two boys. Yet as soon as he started in their direction, the cows headed for the neighbor's wheat field, forcing him to turn around and hurry back. The girl was in her meadow again, too. She had the same two cows tethered to the same stake, around which they grazed in a circle. But although she was nearer and easier to reach than the boys, she was only a girl.

  6. In the Potato Field

  Slowly, Srulik learned to herd the animals. He began to understand the language of the sheep and the cows and to know what they were saying and what they wanted, what it meant when they suddenly shook their heads, and who was the lead ewe. Sometimes, when he was tired and the sun wasn't setting fast enough, he took her by the ear and led her home with the three other sheep trotting after her. The cows took one look and came too. As long as he didn't overdo it, the woman didn't mind. Once, though, he came home so early that she lost her temper and locked him out of the house. She brought him his supper to the sheep shed, a bowl of plain potatoes. He didn't do it again.

  Sometimes he woke in the morning before she came to rouse him. Maybe it was the rooster that woke him, or else the sheep or the dogs, who came to play with him at dawn. Once, going to draw water from the well to wash with, he saw a man slip out of the house and run off into the forest.

  He didn't ask who it was.

  He kept looking at the girl with the two cows. Sometimes he caught her looking at him, too. Yet she never answered when he called to her. In the end, it was the dogs who introduced them. Srulik now took them regularly to the pasture, where he played with them and sometimes wrestled and romped with them in the grass. He could feel the girl watching these games with interest.

  One day she seemed to be very busy. She kept changing pla
ces and lying down in the grass as though looking at something. Srulik wondered what she was up to. At noontime he saw her light a fire. Then she sat down to eat. She must have roasted potatoes in the coals, Srulik thought. Sniffing the air, the dogs ran to her. He called to them before they reached her and they ran back. But she called too and they turned around again. It became a game between her and Srulik. After a while, she called to him:

  "Hey, Red, what do you have to eat?"

  "Bread and cheese!" Srulik called back.

  "I've got something better!"

  "What?"

  "Baked birds."

  "Did you give some to the dogs?"

  "Just the bones."

  "Will you give me some?"

  "Come on over."

  But although he would have liked to, the cows headed for the neighbor's field the minute he left them. They were smarter than the sheep, who paid no attention and went on eating.

  "I can't," he shouted. "The cows will get into the wheat."

  The girl saw his predicament and came to him. With her she brought a few baked songbirds.

  "How did you catch them?" he asked.

  "Don't you know?"

  "No."

  "Would you like me to show you?"

  "Yes."

  "What will you give me?"

  Srulik thought.

  "I don't have anything," he said.

  "What's your name?"

  "Jurek."

  "Mine is Marisza. Are you related to Pani Nowek?"

  "No."

  "Then why are you staying with her?"

  "Her brother found me in the forest."

  "What were you doing in the forest?"

  "I was living there."

  "Where are your father and mother?"

  "They're dead," he said, feeling his heart twinge.

  Were they? Was it all right to say that? Could it make them die if they hadn't yet? And what about his brothers and sisters? The thought of them made him sad. Marisza noticed.