The Night of the Burning Read Online Free Page B

authorized by our glorious new government to check for improper documents, contraband goods, and infectious diseases. I must ask …”
    It
was
an inspector. For just an instant I felt proud that my guess had been right. Then fear snatched my breath and sucked it out of me. There was a determined hand onmy back. Mr. Bobrow was moving us all along the corridor. Ten or eleven doors down, we reached the end of the train car and stood there, pretending to look out the windows.
    “Stay here,” Mr. Bobrow ordered quietly. “I’ll go back and see how fast he’s going. Talk to one another. Come on, talk happily. Don’t look as if you’re frightened.”
    My eyes widened. Was he really going to leave us there alone? Jews weren’t safe on trains. Once I had heard Aunt Friedka tell a neighbor about thugs who boarded trains and threw Jews off the back while the train was still moving.
    From behind me came a bright, high voice. Little Faygele was quick to assume her new role as an actress.
    “And how are you doing, Miss Lehrman?” she asked cheerfully, turning to Nechama. “Are you enjoying the sunny weather?”
    Nechama gaped, and then she responded to a not-so-subtle prod from Faygele. “Yes, thank you,” she managed.
    “Well, I’m fine, too,” chimed in Yankel, not to be outdone. “And how is your arthritis?”
    Laya and Pesha doubled up with wild, hysterical laughter, and Laya’s baby sister, Gittel, laughed, too, as she watched them.
    “Arthritis! Arthritis!” Pesha guffawed.
    “That’s what my mama used to say to Panya Netta,” Yankel retorted loudly, his dignity offended.
    Just one window away, two women frowned at us disapprovingly.
    A moment later, Mr. Bobrow returned. “The inspector is taking a long time in each compartment,” he said softly. “So we have time until he gets close to us. Maybe we’ll reach a station by then. We can get off the train and run back along the platform until we’re near our own compartment and get back on.”
    “What happens if we don’t reach a station soon?” someone asked. Everyone looked back down the corridor anxiously.
    I thought fast. “If he’s taking so long in each compartment, we could slip past him and get back to Mr. Ochberg,” I suggested.
    Pesha’s face turned pale. With her inflamed eyes, she looked like a sad clown wearing red-and-white makeup. “We’ll have to walk so close to him,” she said shakily.
    “But he’ll be talking to the people in the compartment, with his back to us,” I pointed out.
    “Let’s do it!” Mr. Bobrow decided, pushing his spectacles up firmly. “I’ll go first and warn you when we’re getting close to the inspector. Whatever you do, don’t look into the compartment where he’s standing.”
    Fear was a rock in my chest as I followed Mr. Bobrow at a distance. Nechama pressed against my back. The other children fell in behind. Soon Mr. Bobrow gave an urgent wave, without turning around to us. I glanced back as we all quickened our steps. Laya had her head bent over baby Gittel, while Pesha kept her face toward the outer windows.
    For a moment we heard the booming voice of theinspector again. He was just beginning his speech in a new compartment.
    “Attention, if you please. I am the inspector authorized by our glorious new government to …”
    Out of the corner of my eye, I caught sight of his broad back. His gray uniform reminded me of the soldiers who had grabbed Uncle Pinchas. Panic forced bile from my stomach to my throat. I just knew that in a second or two the loud voice would be turned in our direction, a heavy hand would grab my shoulder. I heard Nechama whimper very softly, and I reached back to get hold of any part of her. My fingers brushed her sleeve and I held on tightly.
    Ahead, Mr. Bobrow shoved a door aside. I felt him push me into a compartment and I stumbled inside with Nechama, the others right behind. Isaac Ochberg’s face stared up at us, gray with worry. We were back in our own compartment,