Although Jonitza and Nicolaia could not be constantly together, they tried to share at least one meal every day. Once at such a time Jonitza remarked: "How I wish I could get to the top of that mountain yonder. See what a queer shape it is! It makes me think of the picture of a peak called 'La Omu,' the man."

Nicolaia thought that a funny name. "How did it come to get it?" he asked.

"Let me think," replied Jonitza. "Oh, yes, I remember now what was written about it in my story book. It said that it had another name, 'Negoi,' but that most of the country people preferred 'La Omu' because of its resemblance to a human figure. When one came near he could see that this was caused by a big rock in the center of a mass of others. According to tradition, a shepherd once lost his way there and began to curse God for his misfortune. Suddenly as he was cursing, God turned him into stone as a warning to others."

"Although that probably isn't 'La Omu,'" said Nicolaia, "I should like to climb it nevertheless. Perhaps Vasili would keep an eye on our sheep for a few hours if we asked him."

"Do you think so?" asked Jonitza eagerly. And he at once ran to a bluff and shouted to Vasili, who was stationed nearer to them than any of the other shepherds. Vasili called back good-naturedly, "Go on. I'll see the sheep don't wander far." And the boys started.

It took them half an hour to reach the peak. Gradually, as they ascended it, the pine and fir-trees dwindled into misshapen goblin-like bushes, each of which seemed to be hiding behind one of the great bowlders that were everywhere so plentiful.

At one point the boys were clambering up a steep rocky path when suddenly Jonitza gave a shriek and at the same time jumped high into the air. Nicolaia, who was a short distance behind, stopped so suddenly that he almost lost his balance. There, stretched out between the two boys, lay two long shiny snakes sunning themselves and apparently paying no heed to what had happened.

Nicolaia recovered himself first. He grasped tight hold of his shepherd staff and approached. "Pshaw!" he called disdainfully, to Jonitza on the other side. "They're harmless." Then jumping without fear over them, he ran to where his companion, panting hard, was leaning against a bowlder.

Seeing an open space near, the boys looked it over carefully and sat down. "It was the suddenness of seeing the snakes that made me jump," said Jonitza, apparently feeling that his natural action needed explanation. At this Nicolaia chuckled and then began to lecture Jonitza on the necessity of always keeping wide awake in the mountains and never allowing himself to be surprised.

Jonitza did not relish this and interrupted his companion to ask questions. "How is one to tell harmless snakes from others? Have you ever seen snakes just born?"

At this last question, Nicolaia's eyes flashed. "How I wish I could find a snake's nest!" he exclaimed. "Don't you know that precious stones are made from snake saliva? If I found a snake nest, I'd not run but kill the snakes, and then I'd be so rich I'd be able to buy a big farm of my own."

An answering flash came into Jonitza's eyes. "Let's go hunt for one now," he said, springing up. Nicolaia rose more slowly. "I'm willing, but I warn you that we must be careful."

So with their long shepherd staves in their hands, and keeping watch where they trod, they began a hunt among the bowlders.

How it might have ended no one can tell, for they had gone scarcely twenty yards when they heard a loud cry from down below.

"It must be for us," said Nicolaia, and quite forgetful of snakes or anything else he led the way back as fast as he was able.

When they reached the slopes on which their sheep were grazing, they met a shout of laughter. "It was your donkey," Vasili explained. "He tried, as usual, to follow the flock and this time slipped down between two rocks and couldn't go forward or back. Didn't you hear him bray? I didn't know what to do and so called for you. But in the meantime this other Vasili here came bounding up from nowhere. And you ought to have seen him manage! He tied the donkey's feet together with a thong and lifted him out as easily as one would a baby."

"You know you helped me," said a new voice.

The boys looked up to see a stranger standing near. He was of medium height but thickset and very hardy in appearance. Instead of a sheepskin cap a broad-brimmed hat was set well back over a mass of glossy black curls. His features were regular; his eyes were now smiling but there were angry lines written long before around them. The boys shook hands with him and thanked him. "It was nothing," he said. "Aren't we brothers?"

"Where are you from?"

"I belong to the other side," the youth answered, and then added, "The side that isn't free."

All knew at once that he referred to Transylvania, which, although a part of Hungary, is largely inhabited by Roumanians.

"We intend to make it free," Nicolaia answered with feeling. The Transylvanian smiled and shook his head. Then, without a word more, he left them.

There was one other shepherd that they learned to know. He was the oldest there and came from Jassy, once the capital of Moldavia, a city so old that the Turks claim that it dates back to the time of Abraham. The Roumanians, however, feel that they can do better than that. They put its foundations to the time of their beloved Trajan!

This shepherd, of whom later they heard strange wild tales, kept much to himself. Often, however, the monotonously melancholy notes of a wooden flute on which he played would reach them. Sometimes, too, especially at early dawn, they would hear him draw forth powerful notes on the boutchoum, such as no other shepherd could equal.