Photograph by Herbert Corey 



refugee; tents .just outside the oed city wall at saloniki 



vader they always choose some nook in 

 the hills from which they may watch 

 their black roofs. They cache foodstuffs 

 in secret places, from which they take a 

 handful of corn or a cheese of ewe milk 

 at night. 



When they are driven out the men go 

 silently. Sometimes they are sullen. 

 Sometimes they smile at the soldiers in 

 a sort of twisted, sidewise fashion, in a 

 poor attempt at propitiation. The women 

 follow at their heels patiently. After the 

 first outcry against the order of eviction 

 they never openly defy the soldiery. Yet 

 it is the women who most flagrantly dis- 

 obey. 



They return at night to the abandoned 

 homestead, taking their children with 

 them. To do so they must evade the 



guards and tramp across a desolate coun- 

 try in the darkness, in continual danger 

 from the prowling dogs or from the rifles 

 of the sentries. Somehow they manage 

 to do it. Humanity requires that these 

 little villages in the war zone be emptied 

 to the last human, for in the rear is food 

 and shelter, while at the front is only 

 starvation and danger. 



Yet little by little the inhabitants trickle 

 back. At first they are unobtrusive. Al- 

 though fifty may be living in a hamlet, 

 one sees no more than four or five at a 

 time. Eventually they resume their for- 

 mer mode of life, so far as that is possi- 

 ble. Sometimes they live on the hidden 

 stores of food. Sometimes it is quite im- 

 possible to discover how they live at all. 



Some such thing happened at Brod. 



397 



