lage and they gave him money for them. Now he hasn’t even any more of them. He is as poor and as bare as a stone. Just has that little farm. Who knows where he found money to pay for it? Yes, yes! And what kind of papers are they? I know that—too! Once he had a piece of writing from the German Emperor—to our head officer. It said to seize Trino. But no!—he sold some more papers—and got some money and he gave the money to the officer, who said to him: ‘Go home. Behave yourself well. You are a Serbian, and a Hungarian is no better than a Turk. He does not believe in God or the Mother of God.’ Now—how’s that! And how does it happen that the officer says to him—whenever he is in the village, he slaps him on the back and calls: 'How are you, my hero?' There's a brave one for you! He bullies all the small fellows. But he don’t dare touch a good strong one! That’s a fact! Once—before I was a soldier—I got drunk and cursed his German mother. He didn’t say a word. Not one word! Only—‘Why do you do that?’
“I reply:
“‘Oh—just because!’
“Then he—‘Let up! Let up!’
