Feeding the Hungry, P. C. Hiebert, 1929

Each man knew he was risking his life. When the struggle became hard they thought of those who were waiting for them— their families, their friends, the whole village. Would the bandits attack and rob them of the food, the load of food more precious than anything else! ‘The bandits also were starving. That was why they became bandits. And here on these sleds was so much food. The bandit would not hesitate to kill a number of men in order to get only one sled load. Here were many sled loads. No city or village near by. The families at home knew the dangers and prayed for the safety of their men. Go with these drivers, for a moment, and share their fears with them,—if you can in your comfortable home. At home were their children, pale, emaciated; laugh- terless, whimpering, begging mother for something to eat, just a little bit of bread; with eyes that pleaded and trusted but could not understand why mother did not give something. She always used to. At home were their wives, their mothers, their sisters, their sweethearts, their sons, their fathers, and brothers. For them they were struggling through the snow, bringing that which would UNSEALING THE CLOSED DOOR 191 save their loved ones from the slow death of starvation. How happy the mothers would be! too overjoyed even for smiles! The heart so full that it could only overflow in tears of sheer joy and thankfulness. And the little children, the tiny little ones, how their pinched and sober faces would slowly begin to lighten as it would dawn on them that mother was crying because she was so happy, and now, even right away, they could taste a little bit, just a little bit of the nice white flour, and a little of the sugar, so sweet and good. How the grandmothers and grandfathers, scarcely believing their failing eyes, would stand by, knees and hands shaking with excitement, tears trickling down their furrowed cheeks, ashen gray in pale- ness, hardly realizing until they see the flour, the beautiful white flour from America, the place where grandfather’s brother had gone years ago. He must have plenty of flour now, that good brother of his, and he is sending flour. He must be a good man, too. Struggling through the snow with the load of the food and the burden on his heart! Would the road stay open! ‘The snow was steadily covering the tracks and the fearful driver anxiously scanned the sky, the dim horizon and the undulating whiteness stretching miles and miles towards home. HOME! Yes they must keep the road open. The drivers take turns trudging ahead and break- ing the path for the horses. For they must pull the load and they also are weak. Would the horses hold out! Could they—in such weather, dragging the low sleds through the drifting snow! Oh, if only the horses were stronger as they were the year before, just one year be- fore. Can it be so short a time! It seems many years ago that the horses were round and sleek. What a load they