Transcriber's note: Unusual and inconsistent spelling is as printed.
THE LONG PURSUING LINE OF WOLVES
HAD BROKEN.
Two Brave Boys
and
The Wrong Twin
BY
MARY E. ROPES
Author of
"Karl Jansen's Find," "Caroline Street," etc.
LONDON
THE RELIGIOUS TRACT SOCIETY
4 Bouverie Street & 65 St. Paul's Churchyard
CONTENTS.
TWO BRAVE BOYS
[CHAPTER I. THE MUTTERINGS OF THE STORM]
[CHAPTER II. LITTLE DETECTIVES]
[CHAPTER IV. AN UNEXPECTED FRIEND]
[CHAPTER V. STEPAN MAKES COFFEE]
[CHAPTER VI. RED-SCAR GOES TO SLEEP—ALF AND BERT ESCAPE WITH THE PONY]
[CHAPTER VII. A RACE FOR LIFE—CHASED BY WOLVES]
[CHAPTER VIII. TRICKING THE WOLVES—THE HUT IN THE FOREST]
[CHAPTER IX. A WONDERFUL MEETING—HOW PAMPHIL ESCAPED FROM PRISON]
[CHAPTER X. THE MEETING IN THE HUT—SAFE AT HOME]
————————————————
THE WRONG TWIN
[CHAPTER I. THE WRONG TWIN AND THE RIGHT ONE]
[CHAPTER III. A DESPERATE PLAN]
[CHAPTER V. "IS IT BECAUSE YOU WENT TO THE BAD?"]
[CHAPTER VII. AN ARRIVAL, AND THE NOISE IN THE NIGHT]
[CHAPTER VIII. GERALDINE'S BURGLAR]
TWO BRAVE BOYS
[CHAPTER I.]
THE MUTTERINGS OF THE STORM.
IT was the month of January, and the keen Russian winter had wrapped the woods and marshes in a snowy garment, and put the rivers in prison behind thick panes of ice glass, and dressed up the tall pines and firs till they looked like sheeted ghosts under the cold starlight.
But in Mr. John Oliver's roomy wooden house, standing on ground somewhat raised, and overlooked by the huge chimneys of a big mineral oil factory, was perfect warmth and comfort, for the great stoves built into the walls of the room, and faced with white glazed tiles, kept the whole place of an equal temperature.
It was about eleven o'clock, and two little boys were in bed in their nursery. Their narrow iron bedsteads were drawn close together, and in one of them a little fair-haired lad of about ten or eleven was fast asleep. Not so, however, his brother, who had raised himself to a sitting posture, and now, with his dark head and eager face bent over the sleeper, said in a whisper—
"Wake up, Bert! I want to tell you something. Do wake up!"
Bert stirred uneasily, then rubbed his eyes, yawned, and sat up.
"Oh, it's you, Alf!" he said drowsily. "I was in the middle of a dream. What's the matter?"
"Hush! Don't talk above a whisper. I don't want Niania (nurse) to come in before I've had time to tell you. Matter? Well, nothing yet, but there's going to be heaps the matter if what I've heard comes true."
"What have you heard?" questioned Bert, quite wide awake now.
"I'll tell you," said Alf. "After you'd gone to bed, and I'd finished my lessons for to-morrow, I remembered that I hadn't mended my skate that was broken, and so I went over to our own little workshop, for I hadn't any tools in the house. But as soon as I was inside I forgot all about what I'd come for."
"Did you? Oh, Alf, what was it?"
"Well, you know how thin the partition is between our workshop and the men's tool-room?"
"Yes, and it's full of cracks, too."
"But happily they're too small to see through, or I might have been caught listening," responded Alf.
"But what did you hear?"
"I'm coming to that! There was talk going on between a man, whose voice I did not know, and the foreman of the cooper's shop, Anton Griboff."
"Oh, I know! The chap with the suet-pudding face, the currants for eyes, the plastered hair, and the squint!"
"Yes, that's the chap! Well, the two must have been talking lots before I came to the workshop, for I found I'd jumped into the middle of a plot. And this was to get up a sort of strike; not a real strike though, but just an excuse to mutiny. They have arranged among themselves to demand things that they know very well no manager could give, such as nearly double wages and a six-hours day, and I don't remember what beside. But, of course, dad won't think of it."
"Perhaps they think they can frighten him," suggested Bert.
"Then they don't know dad!" And Alf gave a soft little chuckle of pride in the possession of such a dad.
"Well," he continued, "I stood there as still as a mouse till all was quiet and the men had gone home, and then I crept back to the house and went straight to dad and mother."
"And told them all about it?" asked Bert.
"Of course," replied Alf.
"And what did dad say?"
"Dad said he'd seen this mutinous spirit among the men for some time, and that it was all brought about by a few who were trying to make trouble for the sake of what they could get out of it."
"Was that all, Alf?"
"No; dad turned to mother and said: 'My dear, I must send you and the boys away to England. If there's going to be trouble here, it would not be safe for you to remain.'"
"And what did mother say?" asked Bert, with expectant, shining eyes.
"Mother? Why, she just looked up with her pretty smile and the star-look in her eyes, and she said: 'Herbert, I fear I must disobey you in this matter. If there is going to be danger, my place is here by your side, and the boys cannot go away alone. No, we will all stay together, and trust to God to bring us safely through.'"
"And what did dad say then?"
"Nothing more—not a word. But I saw the tears in his dear old eyes, and so I thought I'd leave him and mother to themselves and come to bed; but I couldn't sleep till I'd told you."
Here a voice from the next room said in Russian: "Why are you talking at this time of night, children? Go to sleep—both of you—like good little pigeons."
"Oh, Niania, I wish you'd come here a minute," said Alf. "I want to ask you something."
Nurse gave a little grunt, but not a cross one, for she was never angry with her children, as she called them.
"Nurse," said Alf very solemnly in Russian, "if there's going to be a rising among the men in the zavot (factory), on whose side will you be—on ours or on theirs?"
Old Niania threw a loving arm round each of the little lads and drew them close.
"My darlings," she cried, "my doves, my gold and silver and diamond children, do I not belong to you, heart and soul? Whatever happens, I am on your side, now and ever; so help me God!"
[CHAPTER II.]
LITTLE DETECTIVES.
THE plot, part of which Alf Oliver had overheard, ripened so quickly that events followed each other closely. First, the English governess took fright and left in a hurry for St. Petersburg, where she had friends.
In the factory there was a spirit of rebellion and defiance, and the men, instead of doing their work, were constantly gathering in little groups, muttering and scowling when the manager passed them.
At last things came to such a point that next to no work was done. The oil barrels remained unfilled, the cart-horses stood idle in the stables, and the great sledge-carts, which should have been carrying casks of oil to the railway station in the town fifteen miles off, were hauled up close together, lumbering the loading yard.
At length, Mr. Oliver resolved to take a bold step and meet the so-called strike half-way. He gave orders that the men should come together into one of the buildings, and he met them there.
But he had no idea that Alf and Bert, who were like their father's shadows, had followed him in and now stood behind him on a platform made of a few planks laid upon barrels.
"My men," said Mr. Oliver in a loud, clear voice, "something is wrong with you; anyone can see it! You won't work, and I am running the factory at a loss. Well, now! Let us say you are tired, and this being so, I am going to give you all a holiday. To-morrow this factory will be closed, your wages paid, and you will all be discharged.
"Those of you who wish to return to your duty, and do it properly, may come back in a week's time, when the works will open again. But any men who return later than that will find their places filled by new hands.
"Now, foremen of the various departments, see that my orders are carried out. Put out the fires, pile up the empty barrels tidily, put away the tools, lock up everything, and bring the keys to me. I have no more to say—the matter now lies with you. Good-night, my men."
Only one or two loyal voices made response; the rest of the workmen kept silence. Two and two they filed past the manager, some looking nervous and frightened, others sullen, evil and threatening.
Alf pulled Bert's sleeve.
"Look at that squinting pudding of an Anton," said he. "Doesn't he look as if he meant mischief?"
"What can he do?" replied Bert. "Isn't the place to be closed for a week? And perhaps he's one of those who won't come back."
"I don't know; I fancy he's one of the worst of them, and now dad's nipped their little plot in the bud, that villain will think of something else to do. I'm sure of it."
"Well, we must be dad's detectives and keep a sharp look-out, Alf," said little Bert with pride, and his brother assented.
The next day or two passed quietly enough, but on the third night something happened.
The two boys were awakened about eleven o'clock by the sound of men's voices, loud and angry. Their bedroom was over the office, and it was from the office that the sounds came.
Always now on the alert, Alf and Bert quickly got into their dressing-gowns and soft slippers and stole down the wide staircase of the big, two-storeyed house. The office door stood open, the lights were burning, and peering in unperceived from the dark hall, the boys saw Anton Griboff, his friend Stepan the fitter, and a third man, a fierce, rough-looking fellow, with a broken nose and a large red scar that cut across both cheeks on a line with the mouth, giving the appearance of a hideous grin from ear to ear.
The three ruffians were standing before the manager, and the boys heard Anton say: "We have come for the key of that safe, and we mean to have it. Give it up."
"The money in the safe is not mine, and I hold the key in trust," replied Mr. Oliver firmly. "You shall not have it."
Anton made a sign, and the other men suddenly sprang upon Mr. Oliver and held him, while Griboff searched the pockets for the key. In a moment, with a cry of triumph, he held it up.
But the next instant, he suddenly fell violently forward, struck his head sharply against the big open desk, and lay still, the cause of this being that Alf and Bert, creeping in on their hands and knees behind Griboff, just as he found the key, each seized a leg and pulled back with all their might. As the man's burly form came crashing down, the key of the safe dropped from his hand, and Alf pounced upon it and passed it on to Bert.
"Run and hide it," he whispered, "while I try to help dad."
The struggles of the manager were vain. The two rascals, taking no heed of their fallen comrade, proceeded to tie Mr. Oliver's arms to his side, and his ankles together. Alf, behind them in the dark doorway, and unseen by the ruffians, dared not speak, but his father saw him, and gave him a look which the boy rightly understood to mean that he was to go and get help.
For a long minute he stood in the dark corridor, wondering what he should do.
Two of the men belonging to the factory—Oscar Kleinweh, a German, and Samuel Levi, a little Jewish engineer—were true men and loyal to his father, but they had gone away when the factory was closed.
Alf's thoughts turned to his mother, who had gone to bed with a bad headache. Her room was in the next wing, and she would probably have heard nothing; he would not go to her.
There was no one of whom he could ask advice. Well, then, he must judge for himself.
"There's no help to be had nearer than the town," said he to himself, "and that's fifteen miles away."
Alf scampered upstairs.
"Quick, Niania, my clothes!" he said. "I'm the only one to go and get help, and I must start at once."
The nurse did not try to prevent him. She saw that the situation was desperate. The man-servant and coachman had joined the strikers, and would not have helped had they been on the spot. Everything now depended upon this boy, who was hardly more than a child.
"The key, Bert!" said Alf. "What have you done with it?"
"It is here," said nurse, "on a string round my neck, under my dress. It shall be quite safe; have no fear for that! Nor for your father. I am going to lock Bert into this room to keep him safer, while I go down and see if I cannot be of use to the master. But the villains will not dare to harm him. It is the money they want. But now how wilt thou go on thy quest, my pigeon? If thou take the sledge and horse, the men will be sure to see thee."
"Yes," replied Alf, "I must ride the pony, for I can saddle him myself in the stable, and watch my time for getting out. I've got the duplicate key of the stable door. Now, nurse, my short fur coat, my fur cap, and big felt boots! So! Now I'm ready!"
And giving the old woman and Bert each a kiss, Alf left the nursery and slipped noiselessly down the back stairs, meeting no one.
The women servants were asleep in the further wing of the big house, and none of the ordinary working household were about at this time of night.
Alf did not dare to return even for a moment to the front of the building, for fear of being caught. Softly he crept out the back way, and in a moment was inside the stable, and had bolted himself in and lighted a lantern.
Sharik (ball), the pony, was a plump, round, sturdy little creature, a great pet with the boys; and now he rubbed his rough head fondly against Alf's shoulder, as the saddle and bridle were being adjusted.
Then, softly undoing the door, Alf peeped out. There was no one in sight; all was clear. He led Sharik out, locked the door, and was soon in the saddle.
The direct road to the town passed the front of the house, and took a straight line for some distance, but Alf dared not risk going to the front. He made for the frozen river at the back, and only joined the road when he felt it safe to do so. Then, however, he put the pony to its full speed. For such a sturdy little beast, Sharik was very swift, and he was also docile, strong and sure-footed.
The night was fine, and but for the burden of care on his young heart, Alf would quite have enjoyed his ride. In little more than an hour the lad reached the town, and at full gallop arrived at the police-station. The head constable was well-known to the Olivers, and he at once promised to send help.
A sotnia (hundred) of Cossacks, too, were in the town for a day or two, and the sergeant thought that their lieutenant would allow some of his men to accompany the police to the factory.
"Will you wait and go with us, little gentleman?" asked the sergeant.
"No, thank you, Yakov Ivanitch, I must get home quickly; I am so anxious."
The constable eyed the gallant little figure of the boy, who had mounted again.
"You are young to ride out alone so far, at dead of night," said he.
"I was not alone, Yakov Ivanitch," replied Alf, his fearless dark eyes meeting the man's frankly.
"How not?" exclaimed the sergeant.
"God was with me," said the boy. "I felt Him there every step of the way." And with a wave of his small hand, he galloped away.
Sharik needed no urging on the homeward journey, and even Alf's impatience could find no fault with his good little steed.
When within a quarter of a mile of the house, he left the high road and again took the way by the river, coming up at the back of the house.
He could see no lights in any of the windows as he dismounted and led his pony into the stable. The kitchen door was unlocked, as he had left it, and when once inside, he soon had the gas alight. But what was his surprise to see the long pinewood table loaded up with dirty plates and dishes with remnants of food; glasses, cups and empty bottles added to the disorder. The place looked like some low tap-room.
Full of forebodings, the boy took a candle from the shelf, and went down the long corridor that ran from the back to the front of the house.
[CHAPTER III.]
CAPTURED.
AT the open door of the office Alf paused; the room was empty and dark, but in the corner stood the safe, still apparently fast locked; so at least the key had not been found.
All the other lower rooms had been overhauled and looted, everything valuable having been carried away, unless indeed it had proved too big to be handled.
Alf then went upstairs, but there seemed to be no one anywhere. Even the servants' rooms were empty, their cupboards and drawers open, and garments scattered about, as though they had dressed in great fear and haste.
Last of all, he went to the nursery. By this time the horrible silence of the house was getting upon the boy's nerves, and for the first time he felt his courage giving way, as he stood in the dear familiar room, now so lonely and deserted.
He turned and was about to descend the stairs again, when he fancied he heard a little sound somewhere close by.
"Anyone here?" he called, with a shudder at the sound of his own voice.
Then the door of a big wall-cupboard opened softly, and Bert's fair head and white face appeared.
In an instant the boys were locked in a close embrace, and for a minute or two neither could say a word. But at last Alf mastered his feelings and began to question Bert, learning from him that the workmen had come to the house in force, and had gone all over it, making a great noise and alarming him greatly.
He said that soon after Alf had left for the town, the nurse went to see if she could do anything for Mr. or Mrs. Oliver, promising to return to Bert very soon.
But she had not come back, and meanwhile the child had heard the talk of the ruffians on the stairs, and their threats to bring a bomb or dynamite and blow up the safe, since they could not open it otherwise.
Then, for fear of their coming in and finding him, Bert hid in the cupboard, and only found courage to come out when he heard his brother's voice.
"Then you don't know what has become of dad and mother and nurse?" asked Alf.
"No, I don't know anything," replied Bert.
"Well, happily Yakov Ivanitch will be here presently with his own men and some Cossacks, and perhaps they'll find out what has become of all our people."
"Ach, so? Will they, indeed?" said a harsh voice behind them. "Well, it is well to know what is likely to happen, then one is prepared."
The boys, turning quickly, saw that the speaker standing in the doorway was the man with the great red scar, the brutal face, and heavy, powerful form.
"So it's you we have to thank, young gentlemen, if the whole nest of police hornets comes buzzing about our ears?"
"Not both of us," retorted Alf stoutly; "my brother had nothing at all to do with it."
"Oh, indeed! So it was you alone? Well, whoever it was, I think we won't wait here for your friends to arrive. Lucky I happened to think of taking one more look round! Come along, both of you!"
And grasping in his huge hands the collar of each boy, he dragged them, in spite of their struggles and hearty kicks at his shins, down the stairs and into the back yard, where a sledge was waiting, with a horse harnessed, and Alf recognised both as his father's.
"Where art thou taking us, thou ruffian?" cried Alf.
"That's not your business," replied Red-scar. "I am not here to be questioned; get into the sledge."
"I cannot leave my pony behind," said Alf stoutly. "He is in the stable, and I must go and fetch him."
The man hesitated. "There is no time to lose," he urged.
"It will not take long," rejoined Alf, "and my brother can come with me."
"What! And lock yourselves into the stable and wait for the police?" snarled Red-scar. "No, thank you But the pony is worth money, so you may fetch him, and I shall hold your brother as hostage for your return."
Once in the stable, Alf deliberately fed his pony, for Sharik had made a double journey, at high speed for him, and might have to run far again directly. His saddle and bridle were still on him, so his young master took all the time at his disposal in giving him a good feed of oats, unheeding, until the good little animal had partly satisfied its hunger, the calls and curses of the man.
But at last, fearing on Bert's account to anger Red-scar further, he led Sharik out, knotted a leading strap round his arm, and without replying to the horrible language of the ruffian, got into the sledge beside Bert, while Red-scar scrambled on to the driver's seat.
Alf looked eagerly in the direction of the town as they emerged into the high road. He was hoping, almost against hope, that the rescuers might appear, even now, at the eleventh hour. But no one was in sight along the white snow road. Their driver turned the horse's head in the opposite direction, and with a sharp cut of the whip set the pace at a gallop.
"Whither art thou taking us?" asked Alf presently.
"After a while you will see," replied the man, with a brutal laugh.
"Be assured of one thing, thou hideous ruffian," said the boy indignantly, "that ere long thou and thy fellows shall smart for this. My father hath ever been a just and kind master to his workmen; and for this ill return they shall, without doubt, pay the price."
"Crow not so loud, my chicken!" sneered the man, his cruel red smile scorning to stretch all round his head. "Troublesome cockerels now and again get their necks twisted."
"The wicked old cocks always do," retorted the lad, nothing daunted; "and so, please God, shalt thou, too, one fine day; and the sooner the better for the rest of us!"
"Wait a bit, my fine young gentleman!" snarled the fellow over his shoulder. "Your turn will come presently. Hideous ruffian, am I? That makes one more thing to thank you for, you stuck-up young monkey!"
It was after three o'clock in the morning by Alf's watch when, in the middle of a pine forest, Red-scar pulled up the panting horse before the door of a rude shanty, a woodman's log hut, built of whole pines roughly trimmed with an axe, and with the crevices stuffed with moss and lichen.
Out of a chimney smoke curled upwards in fantastic shapes, and dispersed in the wintry sky.
"Get down," said Red-scar. He had scrambled out of the driver's narrow seat, and now threw back the furred apron that had protected his young passengers.
"What is this place?" asked Bert, shivering as he stood in the snow of the little clearing round the hut.
But the man did not condescend to reply. He strode to the door of the hut and thumped on it with the handle of his whip.
It opened, showing the light inside, and holding the door open—Stepan the fitter. "Come in, come in!" he said, with some show of heartiness, as the lads, stiff with cold, stood shivering on the threshold. "There is a good fire in the stove here, and I will make some tea to warm you. What about the horses, Gavril?" he added, turning to Red-scar, whose real name the boys now heard for the first time.
"That means Gabriel in English, Bert," said Alf, with an attempt at a smile. "Nice specimen of an archangel, isn't he?"
"The horses?" repeated Red-scar, from the door; "the shed will be all right for them. There is plenty of straw, and I have stopped up all the cracks and mended the door, so that it shuts quite tight. Also I brought hay and oats," and he stepped to the sledge and dragged two sacks out of the front of it. "They made a good footstool for me," he added, "and kept my feet warm."
Stepan, while his companion was occupied with the horses, busied himself in making the tea.
[CHAPTER IV.]
AN UNEXPECTED FRIEND.
STEPAN took from off a rude shelf along the wall a great round black loaf, a plate of yellow salt butter, and some tin mugs big enough to hold a pint each. He out several slices of bread and butter, laying them down on a wooden platter. Then he poured out the tea and pulled a bench up to the rude table in the middle of the room.
The boys gladly took their seats, for they were chilled and hungry; and Bert was about to sip his tea when Alf touched his hand.
"Don't let's forget our grace," said he, and bending his head and closing his eyes he said in a soft whisper: "We thank Thee, Lord, for this food; take care of us, and of those we love, for Jesus' sake. Amen."
The boys were seated together at one end of the table, while Red-scar (who had now returned) and Stepan sat facing them; and Alf, glancing up, now and again, from the food before him, could not but note the contrast between these two men, whom he now rightly regarded as his jailers. And he turned with a certain sense of relief from the brutal aspect of Gavril to the brown-eyed, clear-skinned, black-bearded Stepan.
This man had been—as Alf knew from his father—a superior workman in the fitters' department, receiving high wages and occupying a good position. And Alf wondered to see him throw in his lot with a brute like Gavril, and against such a master as Mr. Oliver had always been.
Just before the meal was ended Red-scar left the hut to get snow for water, and Alf found courage to speak to Stepan of what lay like a burden upon his heart.
"Look here, Stepan," he said, "I can speak to thee, for thou art not as the other. Tell us what has become of our parents and old Niania? Knowest thou?"
"On my honour, young sir, I know not," replied Stepan. "When Gavril and I bore Anton away unconscious to his own house, we left the master bound securely, but unhurt, lying on the sofa in the office. When we returned in half an hour's time, he was gone. As for the key of the safe, Anton found it, held it up for us to see, then suddenly fell, and from that moment the key vanished. The lady and the nurse had also disappeared before we went upstairs, though how or where I know no more than you. I only am sure that it was before the rougher among the workmen came swarming, as drunk as they could be, and turned everything upside down."
"And what had my poor father done—tell me that, Stepan," said Alf, "that you men should rise against him thus? What, for example, had he done against thee?"
"Ah, young sir, you are scarce more than a child; how can you understand? My grievance was nothing that the other men knew of or shared in. But because they mutinied, I went with them—but for reasons of my own."
"Tell us, Stepan, what was thy grievance?" asked Alf, and Bert echoed his brother's words.
"Did you ever see my young brother, Pamphil?" questioned Stepan.
"Was he working in the zavot about a year ago?"
"He was," replied Stepan, "but he got into bad company, and was found one night by the master dead drunk on the floor of the Refinery Room, with a half-smoked pipe beside him."
"I suppose," said Alf, "that his duty was to keep watch there, and above all to see that no risk was run of fire, which was the great danger always. Also I have heard my father say that smoking is strictly forbidden all over the factory."
"It is so," rejoined Stepan, "and Pamphil was much to blame; nevertheless, he was very young, and had been led away by others more vicious, though wiser, than he; but the master dismissed him at once. I pleaded for him and he listened, but it was all in vain. Pamphil was discharged. And then, in despair, he went from bad to worse, and now he lies in prison for murderous assault and perhaps he may lose his life. And knowing this, how can I forget that all this misery might have been prevented had the master kept the poor lad in his employ, or at least given him another chance!"
"But suppose," suggested Alf, "that some terrible accident had happened through Pamphil being drunk or heedless; and suppose life and property were lost on his account! Would not my father be blamed—and justly—for keeping a man in his employ who was not to be trusted? Oh, Stepan, this grudge of thine is an unjust and unworthy one."
"Our father was good to thee when thou wert ill of the fever," put in Bert. "He went to see thee every day, and mother sent food from our own table to strengthen thee. Hast thou forgotten?"
Stepan did not reply; it was all too true, though he did not like to confess it.
But just then, Gavril came back with two great buckets of snow, which he emptied into a huge kettle and set on the stove to boil, after which he went out again for firewood.
"And now, young gentlemen," said Stepan, "if you will take my advice, you will lie down on the bed in that warm corner, and get a few hours' sleep. You must need it."
"Look here, Stepan," said Alf; "a straight word with thee! We dare not sleep—my brother and I—if we be left alone with Red-scar, for he hates us and might do us an injury. Promise that if we sleep, thou wilt not leave us."
The man's brown eyes softened as he looked at the little lads, who, in spite of all he had done, trusted him still.
"You may sleep in peace, my children; no harm shall come to you," he said gently.
And as they went and lay down, he took from a nail in the wall his big sheepskin coat, and carefully covered them. In a few minutes, he could tell by their regular breathing that they were asleep.
"Ah!" said Gavril, who now returned with the firewood. "So thou hast put the brats to bed. I would dearly love to choke the impudence out of that older boy!"
And the cruel grin widened like a beast's at sight of prey, and the cat-like eyes narrowed till they were only two gleaming slits. He stepped across to the low bed and, stooping, pulled the collar of the sheepskin shoob away from Alf's face and throat. Stepan was watching him closely, distrust and dislike written large in his frowning brow and set lips.
"Hands off, Gavril!" he said sternly. "I promised the children that they should sleep secure, and they shall! Come away from them!"
"Thou soft-hearted old coddle!" sneered Red-scar, replacing the fur, and taking his seat by the stove. "But now to business! How long are we to keep these imps in hiding?"
"How can I tell? Thy purpose was to hold them to ransom; but, pray, who is there to ransom them? The parents and nurse have disappeared; thou dost not know of any reward offered. Much more likely is it that the police will track us down, and give us a taste of Siberia for our pains. Poor little fellows! They have come to trouble before their time, and through no fault of their own."
"Nay, then, if thou art so soft-hearted," said Gavril mockingly, "it is a pity thou art not on the manager's side rather than ours."
"Well, yes," replied Stepan coolly; "if 'our side' means to be with thee, it would certainly be more to my credit if I went back to serve under my old master."
"Thou double-faced traitor!" exclaimed Gavril with a threatening gesture.
"I was a fool," said Stepan, "to let my own private grievance drive me to join the rest of you—such a black gang, too, and thou, Gavril, blackest of all!"
"Another word, and I brain thee with this axe!" cried Red-scar.
[CHAPTER V.]
STEPAN MAKES COFFEE.
"BAH!" said Stepan, moving not a muscle as Gavril brandished the great axe over his head. "It seems to me that, for a man no longer in his first youth, thou art passing foolish. Hast thou not sin enough yet upon thy soul but thou must add murder to thy wrongdoings? In truth, Red-scar, thou hast much to learn, and thou wilt one day learn thy last lesson too late, with a noose about thy neck."
"Now out upon thee for an old croaker!" cried Gavril, but his cheek had paled, and he had put the axe down.
"Hush!" said Stepan. "No more! The boys are waking."
Two days passed, and Alf and Bert had not much to complain of, save that they were not allowed to leave the hut. Gavril was away most of the time, and they were left with Stepan, who, though often moody, was never unkind.
But on the third day he announced his intention to go and make inquiry about his brother, who was in prison in a town about twenty versts away. As he spoke, the boys' cheeks blanched with terror.
"Oh, Stepan," said Alf, "if thou leave us here, we shall die of fright. Red-scar hates us, and if he find that he can gain nothing by us, he will get rid of us somehow. In this lonely place, what is to hinder his doing just as he likes?"
Stepan listened thoughtfully. At last he said, "Ah well! It must come to a breach sooner or later, and why not sooner? One thing I can do, my children. Gavril expects to be away all to-night, and he charged me, in case I had to leave before his return, to bolt you in securely so that you should not escape. Suppose we say that I bolt the doors as I promised, but if you are outside them instead of inside, I will not try to prevent. Truth to say, I am weary of the responsibility of having you here; before God, I wish you no ill, and I bitterly repent that ever I took sides with the Black Gang. I have but thrown myself out of good work; my family will be in distress, and what have I gained?"
"Dear old Stepan! Reproach not thyself any more," cried Alf, "and all shall yet be well."
"Yes, Stepan. Only help us, and thou shalt not regret it," pleaded Bert with tearful eyes.
"When our father comes to his own again," said Alf, "we will tell him how thou didst protect and befriend us, and he will gladly take thee back."
"But, my children, I know not what to do with you now, or whither to conduct you. I must see my brother, or at least hear something about him. My wife and children are with my old mother at St. Petersburg, so I have no care for them just now. But as for you, I cannot take you with me; what am I to do? To leave you here is to expose you to danger, for I trust not Gavril."
"Let me tell thee what I propose," said Alf. "I have a feeling that can we but get bank to our home, all will be well."
"Trying to get back is a great risk," replied Stepan, "but it is a choice of evils, and perhaps it is safer for you to be on the march homeward than alone with Gavril here."
"Of course I shall take Sharik," continued the boy. "He can easily carry us both, and perhaps he will find the way home, though I do not know it. He is such a clever little beast."
"There is plenty of food in the hut," said Stepan, "so you can fill your pockets, and you must also carry some oats for the pony."
So this course was decided upon, and the details were talked over and arranged before they went to bed.
But they had not had time to fall asleep when there came a loud knocking at the door, and the harsh voice of Gavril shouted, "Wake up there! Are you all dead? Open the door!"
Stepan, with a muttered exclamation, drew back the bolts. The boys were sitting up pale and trembling, despair in their hearts, for they had suddenly realised that their plan for flight was rendered utterly useless. Red-scar had returned earlier than he was expected, and now they would have to be left in his hands.
"Here I am," said he, "and you none of you look over and above pleased to see me. Well, I have no good news for thee, Stepan; quite the contrary. The factory and house are under guard, and Cossacks are patrolling round the whole place. Lots of our men are under arrest, but there is a report that the works are to start again in a week's time, and that new hands have been engaged."
"That means that dad's safe, Bert!" whispered Alf. "Oh, if we could but get there!"
"I hear that every hole and corner are being ransacked to find these brats," Gavril went on, "and a reward has been offered, but it is not enough. Another two days, and it will be doubled, and then I will think about taking these dear sweet children home."
Stepan did not reply, and Gavril said, "Well, now I have told my news, am I not to have any supper?"
"There is plenty on the shelf; help thyself," said Stepan.
"And am I to have nothing hot to drink after my long drive?"
For a moment Stepan appeared to take no notice; then, all at once, as though acting on a sudden impulse, he replied, "All right, I will make thee some coffee."
Gavril muttered a word or two of surly thanks, and went out to see to the horse, while Stepan set about making the coffee.
"Oh, Stepan," whispered Bert, "now Red-scar has come home there is no chance of our getting away."
"It does seem hard!" said Alf. "Just when we had settled it all so nicely too."
Stepan looked up with something very like a smile on his swarthy face.
"Be not down-hearted, my children," he said. "I think we will give Gavril the slip yet."
[CHAPTER VI.]
RED-SCAR GOES TO SLEEP—ALF AND BERT ESCAPE WITH THE PONY.
STEPAN would not suffer Alf and Bert to ask any questions; but they felt that he had a definite purpose and plan, and hope began to rise again in their poor little hearts. Quietly they lay in bed, watching him. They saw him put fresh wood on the fire, and water to boil. They saw him get the canister of coffee and measure out a liberal quantity.
And then they saw something else which set them wondering. Into a tiny saucepan containing only a little water, he emptied a small paper bag of faded-looking green things like round dried pods. He put a cover on the saucepan and set it to boil. Then when he had made the coffee, straining it through a bag, he poured through the bag also the decoction he had prepared in the small saucepan and mixed it with the coffee.
It was just ready, and the small saucepan rinsed out and put away, when Gavril came in.
"Make haste now and get thy supper," said Stepan. "Thou art keeping these children awake, and me too; thou hast forgotten that I must make an early start."
Gavril grunted and took a long draught of coffee.
"This coffee of thine has a queer taste, Stepan," he said. "What hast thou done to it?"
"What should I do?" replied the other coolly. "Perhaps it was made in too much of a hurry. People who come in at midnight can hardly, in the backwoods, expect a hotel supper served."
"Well, anyhow, it is hot, and it warms me," said Gavril.
"Yes, and there is condensed milk in it, so it is nourishing. Drink it up and lie down, and I will put out the light."
Gavril said no more. He ate his bread and cheese, and two salted cucumbers, and drank up the coffee to the last drop. Then, overcome with weariness, apparently, he rolled himself up in his sheepskin, lay down on the pile of straw in a corner, and was snoring loudly in a few minutes.
Stepan remained quite quiet for about a quarter of an hour, glancing at Gavril at intervals. At last, assured of his sound slumber, he went to and fro in the hut, collecting the things that would be required for the journey of the boys and himself. Bread, cheese, a small kettle and tin of tea, and a few lumps of sugar, an axe, and his own revolver. The food he divided into two portions, one for himself, one for the children, all but the parcel of tea and sugar, which he gave to them just as it was.
"You may get up now," he whispered to Alf and Bert, as his preparations neared completion; "get up and put on your furs; and you," he added to Alf, "see to the pony. No," he said, with a smile, as the lad's eyes turned with fear to the snoring Gavril; "you need have no misgiving. He will not wake for hours. I gave him a decoction of poppy-heads in his coffee, on purpose to quiet him, so that we could get away."
"Then why should we not take our own sledge and horse as well as the pony?" said Alf. "Gavril stole them from us; we shall but be taking back our own."
"It is true, you are right," said Stepan.
"Look here, dear Stepan," said Alf, clasping the man's rough brown hand in both of his. "Thou art so good to us, we cannot but love thee, and father will love thee too when we tell him all. Take thou the horse and sledge for thy journey, and then afterwards bring them back to the factory; and we, in our father's name, promise thee a welcome, and that all shall be forgotten save thy goodness to us. Sharik can easily carry my brother and me; and so we shall run away both with horse and pony, and Red-scar, if he chase us, must do it on his own splay feet. Say, Stepan, shall it not be so?"
The man's brown eyes grew moist. He raised the boy's hand to his lips.
"Yes, little sir, if God please, it shall be even so," he said.
More loud than ever was Gavril's snoring when the sledge glided noiselessly away over the snow through the wood, with Sharik trotting nimbly behind, making nothing of his double burden.
Until they reached the edge of the forest, their way lay in the same direction, but there the roads diverged.
"That is your route, my children," said Stepan, pointing across the snowy landscape, "and this is mine. Good-bye. God be with you."
With these words he was turning away, when both boys called out, "Wait one moment!"
And as he reined up, Alf guided the pony close to the sledge, and the lads threw their arms round the man's neck and kissed him.
"Nay, Stepan," said Alf, as the poor fellow gave a great sob, "thou must not weep. We shall (for God is so good) soon see thy face again. Look forward to a welcome from us who love thee."
But Stepan could make no answer. The tears were running down his cheeks as he drove away, looking back again and again, and waving his hand.
"And now, Sharik, I wonder if you have any sort of idea where our home lies?" said Alf. "Sit quite still, Bert, and we will see if he chooses any road for himself."
The boys sat motionless, having reined up the pony. Now Alf dropped the reins and waited.
After a full minute Shank turned his head with a look of inquiry, and Alf said very emphatically, "Home, Sharik! Find your way home, old boy! Maybe you know it; we don't."
The wise little animal threw up his head and sniffed the air. Then he snorted and struck off at a smart canter, along a road that led across a frozen marsh for miles and miles. And the moon looked down upon the little travellers, and the stars peeped at them. And the God and Father Whom they trusted was far above moon and stars, yet very near to them in His love and care.
"It can't be much more than twenty to twenty-five miles to the factory from here," said Alf, half turning in the saddle; for Bert was sitting behind him, both arms round his brother's waist, to keep himself on the pony's back.
"No, it can't be so very far," assented Bert, "for we came in little over two hours, when Red-scar drove us, and we did not run more than eleven miles an hour, for all his slashing."
"Still, it is a long way for Sharik, and with two of us on his back," rejoined All, "though I must say he doesn't seem to mind it a scrap, so far. But, of course, he may be tired after a while, and when he is, we must get off and give him a rest and a feed. But we must move on now as quickly as we can, for fear of pursuit."
"But," said Bert, "Red-scar has only his own legs on which to pursue us, and Sharik is going bravely; no man walking or running could possibly overtake him."
"No, and I felt pretty safe too, till just now," replied Alf. "But look at that deep snow we're coming to! The pony will have to go slowly, for he will sink in up to his knees."
"Well, yes, of course," rejoined Bert; "but then, if Red-scar came after us, would he not do the same?"
"No, he wouldn't; that's just it! I never thought of it till just this minute, but do you remember seeing two queer-looking things shaped like something between a sledge and a boat, and with thongs to them? They were hanging up in the corner of the log-house farthest away from the stove."
"Yes," answered Bert; "I remember now you speak of them; what were they?"
"Stepan told me they were snow-shoes, and when you have them on you can slip over the snow almost as though you were skating on ice. You don't sink in a scrap, and that's why the bear-hunters always use them. Because—if Mr. Bruin wakes up very cross out of his winter sleep, and a hunter happens to miss fire, and the bear chases him—he can get away easily on his snow-shoes, while old Bruin sinks up to his haunches in the drifts."
"But, Alf," said Bert, "you don't really believe that Red-scar could overtake Sharik, and get possession of us again, do you? It would be just too dreadful!"
"Yes, worse than anything I could think of," rejoined Alf. "But there, Bert dear, we won't look forward to such a thing and make ourselves miserable over it. After all, just think how We have been watched over and protected, in spite of dangers. And I have the same feeling now that I had when I rode to the town—that God is with us—close to us both; and that if we put our whole trust in Him, and just take the way that He opens up before us, all will be well."
[CHAPTER VII.]
A RACE FOR LIFE—CHASED BY WOLVES.
"WHO could have thought," said Bert, "that Stepan would turn out our friend after all—and so good to us! That was God's doing, wasn't it?"
"Of course it was," said Alf confidently.
"But, oh, if only Stepan could have come with us, it would have been such a comfort," said Bert.
"Yes, but how could he, when he was so anxious about his brother? And he told me yesterday that some of the prisons in those small towns here in the interior of Russia are such dreadful holes that prisoners often die of cold and want and disease, and no one ever hears of them any more."
While the boys were talking, the pony was going steadily forward, picking his way carefully where the road was uneven and the snow frozen into rough ridges; but quickening his pace to a canter whenever the way was smooth enough.
But now—suddenly—he stopped short, his head turned to meet the wind, his nostrils evidently receiving a scent that startled and alarmed him.
The lads felt him stiffen and grow rigid under the saddle, and their hearts beat quick with fear.
Full of horror of what might be coming, they looked round, half-expecting to see Red-scar striding after them on his snow-shoes; but no human foe was in sight. They saw, however, against the white background, two or three black shadows skulking along at some little distance behind, and stopping when Sharik stopped. And in a moment the young riders understood what had thrilled their brave little steed with fear.
"Wolves?" questioned Bert in a husky voice.
"Yes," replied Alf; "but not many of them yet; not enough to be dangerous. We may be able to get to some place where we can be safe before there are more of them. They haven't sounded their hunting-cry yet."
"Oh, Alf!" sighed poor Bert, "I never thought of such a thing as this! It's too dreadful."
"Go on, Sharik!" cried Alf, pressing his heels against the pony's fat sides. "You can gallop when you choose, and you, Bert, sit tight!"