5 November.--With the dawn we saw the body of Szgany before
us dashing away from the river with their leiter wagon.
They surrounded it in a cluster, and hurried along as though beset.
The snow is falling lightly and there is a strange excitement in the air.
It may be our own feelings, but the depression is strange.
Far off I hear the howling of wolves. The snow brings them down
from the mountains, and there are dangers to all of us, and from
all sides. The horses are nearly ready, and we are soon off.
We ride to death of some one. God alone knows who, or where,
or what, or when, or how it may be...