Chapter 5

CHAPTER 5 The man wasn't dressed like a soldier; he was wearing work clothes, and his sunbaked face and roughened hands told Max he was a farmer, the man who must own this land. Max and Zena stood up, and Max put himself between the farmer and Zena, ready for a fight. But then Max noticed something about the man's craggy face, which was lit up by the moon. His expression was tough. But his eyes looked at them with kindness. "We must move now," he said in an urgent whisper. "The Nazis are already searching the

farm. And more are coming." And it hit Max. This man wanted to help them! Seconds later, the roar of truck engines shattered the quiet. Doors slammed and footsteps shook the ground. The old farmer pointed to the barn behind the wheat field. "They've already searched my barn," he said. "Move quickly. Keep your heads down." "All these soldiers are searching for us?" Max asked. There seemed to be hundreds of men! "No," the farmer said. "They are searching for people who blew up a Nazi train tonight." A Nazi train, blown up! Could that be true? And the people who had done it had gotten away? The thought gave Max a jolt of excitement.

He and Zena hurried behind the farmer, running through the field with quiet steps. When they got to the barn, the farmer slid the door open just enough for Max and Zena to slip inside. "Go quickly up into the hayloft," he said, pointing to a ladder. "Move as far back as you can, near the wall. Cover yourselves with hay. Do not move, no matter what!" Max met the old man's gentle eyes. No, not everyone had been infected by the Nazis' hate. He also realized how brave this man was, what a risk he was taking to help Max and Zena — two strangers. People caught hiding Jews were shot. Max opened his mouth to thank him, but in a blink the barn door closed tight, and he and Zena were alone in the dark. They scrambled blindly up the ladder leading to the hayloft. They had barely covered themselves with hay when they heard thundering voices just outside.

"Into the barn!" a man's voice boomed. The barn door slammed open. Max peered through the hay. He glimpsed four men: the farmer and three Nazi soldiers. And there was something else: a dog — a massive German shepherd. It growled and strained

on a steel chain leash, its snarling teeth glowing in the light of the soldiers' flashlights. Max dropped his head and inched closer to Zena, gluing himself to her side. "Why are we here?" demanded the old farmer. "I helped the commander search this barn thirty minutes ago. The criminals are hiding in the wheat field." His tone was gruff and bullying, almost as though he was in charge. Max understood it was an act. But would he fool the other men? "The dog led us to this barn," said a Nazi with a high, rasping voice. "The barn is filled with cats," the farmer spat back. "Of course the dog wants to search!" The dog's growls rose up. Grrrrrrrr. Grrrrrrr. Terror chewed Max's insides.

"We're giving those criminals time to escape," the farmer insisted. "The commander will not be pleased! I will tell him how you wasted our time!" Men murmured. The dog's growling grew louder. Grrrrrr! Grrrrrr! And finally the rasping man shouted out a command in German. "Stille!" The dog went silent. "We will find those filthy Jews who destroyed our train," the man rasped. "And we will make them suffer for what they did." Max shivered. "We will never find them if we stay in this barn!" the farmer said. "Because of you, they will escape!" Max held his breath. "All right," the rasping man said. "To the fields!"