thathtseethroughtheruse.Inhindsight,Ishouldnothaveworriedso,for1968wastheyearofthePragueSpring,thatopenwindowwhenDubcektriedt"socialismwithahumanface"tothebenightedCzedSlovaks.TheRussiantankswouldnotrollinuntilAugust.

    Tesslovedthedangerofourtrespassandskulkedalongtheleafyfloorlikeanescapedprisoriedtokeepupwithher,holdherhand,andassumeanairofsilenting.Afteramileorsoonourhike,atentsprinklefellthroughthegreenleaves,andthenashaninearheraindropshittheopyaboveanddrippeddownwithasteadybeat,butunderhatrhythm,anirregularsoundoffootstepsbecameaudible.Itwastoodarktomakeoutanyfigures,butIheardthemmargthroughthebrush,cirgaround,followingus.Igrabbedherarmandpushedonfaster.

    "Henry,doyouhearthat?"Tessseyesdartedabout,aurnedherheadfromsidetoside.Theykeptoning,andwebegantoruookolookoverhershoulderandscreamed.Catgmebytheelbow,Tessstoppedressandwheeledmearoundtofaceourtormentors.Theylookedforlorninthefallingrain.Threecows,twobrindlesae,staredbackatus,indifferentlychewingtheircuds.

    Soaked,wefledthewetforestandfoundtheroad.Wemusthavebeenapitiablesight,forafarmerstruckstopped,andthedriverindicatedwithhismeatythumbthatwecouldhitcharideintheback.Tessshouted"Cheb?"tohimthroughtherain,andwhenhenodded,wegotinandrodeatopamountainofpotatoesforahalf-hourallthewaytothequaintCzechvillage.Ikeptmyeyesontheregwoods,thewindingroad,surethatwewerebeingfollowed.

    Likeflowersinaspringgarden,thehousesandstoreswerepaintediels,theoldbuildingsinwhiteandyelloeandve