The summer passed away, and the second autumn came. Gregor had told
all he knew; told it twice, three times; and Sasha, more eager than
ever, began to grow impatient for something more. He had secured a
little reading-book, such as is used for children, and studied it
until he knew the exact place of every letter in it, but there was no
one to give the poor boy another volume, or to teach him any further.
One afternoon, as he was returning alone from a neighbouring village
by a country road which branched off from the main highway, he saw
three men sitting on the bank under the edge of a thicket. They were
strangers, and they seemed to him to be foreigners. Two were of
middle age, with harsh, evil faces; the third was young, and had an
anxious frightened look. They were talking earnestly, but before he
could distinguish the words, one of them saw him, made a sign to the
others, and then he was very sure that they suddenly changed their
language; for it was German he now heard.
He felt proud of his own knowledge, and his first thought was to say
"Good-day!" in German. Then he remembered his grandfather's counsel,
"Never display your knowledge until there is a good reason for it,"
and gave his greeting in Russian. The young man nodded his head in
return; the others took no notice of him. But in passing he
understood these sentences:--
"He will carry a great deal of money.... There's no danger--he will
be alone.... Grain and hemp both sold to-day.... It will be already
dark."
Just beyond the thicket the road made a sharp turn and entered the
woods. Sasha never afterwards could quite explain the impulse which
led him to dart under the trees as soon as he was out of sight, to
get in the rear of the thicket, crawl silently nearer on his hands
and knees, and then lie down flat within hearing of the men's voices.
For a moment he was overcome with a horrible fear. They were silent,
and his heart beat so loudly that he thought they could no more help
noticing it than the sound of a blacksmith's hammer.
Presently one of them spoke, this time in Russian.
"There is a hill from which you can see both roads," he said, "but
he'll hardly take the highway."
"Are you sure his groom was not in the town along with him?" asked
another.
"It's all as I say--rely upon that!" was the answer. "For all his
titles he's no more than another man, and we are three!"
In talking further they mentioned the name of the town; it was the
place only a few miles distant where the grain, hemp, and other
products of the estate were sold to traders--and this was the day of
the sale! The plot of the robbers flashed into Sasha's mind; and if
he had had any remaining doubts, they were soon removed by his
hearing the name of Baron Popoff mentioned. The latter was to be
waylaid, plundered, killed if he resisted. Then the eldest of the
three men said, as he got up from the bank where they had been
sitting:
"We must be on the way. Better be too early than too late."
"But it's a terrible thing," remarked the youngest.
"You can't turn back now!" said the other angrily.
Sasha waited until he could no longer hear their footsteps. Then he
started up, and, keeping away from the road they had taken, ran
through the woods and thickets in the direction of the town. His
only thought was, to reach the hill the robbers had mentioned, from
which both roads could be seen. He knew it well; there was a
bridle-path, shorter than the main highway, and the baron would
probably take it, as he was on horseback. The hill divided the two
roads; it was covered with young birch-trees, which grew very thickly
on the summit and almost choked up the path. But there was a long
spur of thicket, he remembered, running out on the ridge, and whoever
stood at the end of it could almost look into the town.
Sasha was so excited that he took a track almost as short as a bird
flies. He tore through bushes and brambles without thinking of the
scratches they gave him; he leaped across gullies, and ran at full
speed over open fields; he was faint, and bruised, and breathless,
but he never paused until the farthest point of the thicket on the
hill was reached. It was then about an hour before sunset, and only
one or two travellers on foot were to be seen upon the highway. The
town was half a mile off, but he could plainly see where the
bridle-track issued from a little lane between the houses. Carefully
concealing himself under a thick alder-bush, he kept his eyes fixed
upon that point.
He was obliged to wait for what seemed a long, long time. The sun
was just setting when, finally, a horseman made his appearance, and
Sasha knew by the large white horse that it must be the baron. The
rider looked at his watch, and then began to canter along the level
towards the hill. There was no time to lose; so, without pausing a
moment to think, Sasha sprang from his hiding-place, and darted down
the grassy slope at full speed, crying:
"Lord Baron! Lord Baron!"
The rider, at first, did not seem to heed. He cantered on, and it
required all Sasha's remaining strength to reach the path in advance
of him. Then he dropped upon his knees, lifted up his hands, and
cried once more:
"Stop, Lord Baron!"
The baron reined up his horse just in time to avoid trampling on the
boy. Sasha sprang to his feet, seized the bridle, and gasped, "The
robbers! the robbers!"
"Who are you?--and what does this mean?" asked the baron in a stern
voice.
But Sasha was too much in earnest to feel afraid of the great lord.
"I am Sasha, the son of Ivan, the son of Gregor," he replied; and
then related as rapidly as he could all that he had seen and heard.
The baron looked at his pistols.
"Ha!" he cried, "the caps have been taken off! You may have done me
good service, boy. Wait here: it is not enough to escape the
rascals; we must capture them!"
He turned his horse, and galloped back at full speed towards the
town. Sasha watched him, thinking only that he was saved at last.
It was growing dark when the boy's quick ear caught the sound of
footsteps in the opposite direction. He turned and saw the three men
approaching rapidly. With a deadly sense of terror he started and
ran towards the town.
"Kill the little spy!" shouted behind him a voice which he well knew.
Sasha cried aloud for help as he ran, but no help came. He was
already weak and exhausted from the exertion he had made, and he
heard the robbers coming nearer and nearer. All at once it seemed to
him that his cries were answered; but at the same moment a heavy blow
came down upon his head and shoulder. He fell to the ground, and
knew no more.