A NOTABLE DAY AMONG THE WOLVES.
Then, at length, when their bodies were wearied with the fatigue of
constant tramping, and their souls worn out with disappointment, and
their hearts sick with hope deferred, there came a day of great joy for
Boris and Nancy.
It befell on this wise. They were out, as usual, quartering the forest,
and hunting every clump of birch cover and grove of young fir trees,
Boris being in front, and Nancy behind on the left, when a cry from his
wife caused the hunter to start and look round, fingering his axe, for
he knew not what might befall in these dark depths of the forest. Nancy
repeated her cry and rushed forwards; and Boris knew at once that it
was no cry of terror, but of ecstasy and joy. He too sprang forward to
rejoin Nancy, and a wonderful sight met his eye.
There, close before them in an open space between the trees, a huge
she-wolf was trotting across the glade, followed by her six cubs,
and chasing after the tail of the procession was a tiny human child,
hurrying along as fast as it could make way on hands and knees, losing
ground, however, rapidly, and crying because it could not keep up with
the rest.
With swift inarticulate cries of great joy Nancy rushed open-armed in
pursuit, and Boris was not far behind.
The old wolf stopped once, and turned and snarled savagely at Nancy;
but its heart failed, and it quickly disappeared among the trees,
followed by its four-legged cubs, leaving the little foster-child. Her
the true mother, frantic with love and happiness, caught quickly up
and hid close in her bosom, bending over it and calling it every sweet
name in the English language, and in the Russian also, and cooing and
talking nonsense to it.
But the child snapped, and scratched, and growled, and struggled, and
fought, as though it were no human child but a very wolf born and bred.
So fiercely did it fight and kick out for its freedom that Nancy was
obliged presently to set it down, when it instantly made off on hands
and knees in the direction taken by its companions.
Boris fairly roared with laughter in the exuberance of his delight to
see the child alive and well; and Nancy in her joy could do nothing
wiser than laugh also, as they both walked quickly after the little
crawling thing, easily keeping up with it, though it went far quicker
than they would have believed possible. This time the father picked
up the wild tiny creature, and well he got himself scratched for his
pains, of which he took no heed whatever. Presently the poor babe,
finding that her captor had no intention of hurting her, lay quiescent
in his arms, and after a while fell asleep, tired of crying and
fighting, and doubtless feeling very comfortable.
Nancy meanwhile walked beside her husband, feeling no ground beneath
her feet. All her weariness and her heart-soreness had vanished
entirely, and the lines of care which had set themselves upon her
face, and caused her to look old and worn in the May-time of her life,
had vanished also. She danced and sang as she went, and in all that
forestful of gay singers there was none that was so happy as she. And
at home, what though the little savage bit and snarled and refused to
be fed or washed, and for many hours thought of nothing but how to
escape back into the woods--why, a mother's love and care would soon
recover it to herself, she said, and she could well afford to wait for
a few days longer for her full happiness, she who had waited so long
and wearily in tears and sorrow!
As a matter of fact, the faithful Nancy had not to wait very long
before matters began to mend. The little wolf-girl soon found that she
was well off, and that no one wished to do her hurt. After this it was
merely a matter of patience, for the little one became more human, and
showed less of the wolf every hour, until, at the end of a week, she
permitted herself to be washed and dressed and fed and petted with no
more opposition than is generally shown by people of the age of four or
five months! What opposition she did make to anything she disapproved
of was perhaps more savage than that of most babies; but there the
difference ended.
One peculiarity remained for many a day--an intense love of the woods
and of the open air generally, as well as a marked taste for scuttling
about on hands and knees, which she managed to do at a very great
speed considering her size. Nancy was wont to declare that for neither
of these characteristics was she indebted to her sojourn among the
wolves, but that she simply inherited both her love of the forest as
well as her nimbleness from her father. I who write these lines am
inclined to believe that her wolfish infancy is a sufficiently good
reason for both.
Thus ended happily the most terrible experience that a devoted father
and mother could pass through; and if the child was loved before, she
was ten times as dear to both parents after her almost miraculous
recovery from the very jaws of death. Boris declared that he could
never kill another she-wolf unless it were to save his own or another
life; and this resolution, I may add, he kept until his dying day.
Thus the months and the years went by at Karapselka in peace and
happiness, with but an occasional adventure to break the monotony of
such an existence. Boris was perfectly happy; but for all that he was
conscious from time to time of a feeling of regret for his old days of
activity in the Tsar's service, and of honour fairly won and unfairly
lost, and he felt that this fleeting sensation might at any moment
strengthen into an irresistible desire and longing to be up and about
once more among his fellow-men. This sort of life was all very well
for a time, but, after all, it was an inglorious sort of existence,
and Boris knew that even his devotion to Nancy and her babies--for
she had two now--would not suffice to keep him at Karapselka very
much longer, especially if anything should happen to reawaken his old
spirit of enterprise, or to bring him again within the magic of the
Tsar's presence and favour. Of this last Boris had but little hope, for
Peter's displeasure had been too deep for forgiveness; but there were
rumours of war with Sweden, which Colonel Drury, who brought the news,
said would be a long and terrible struggle if the threatenings came to
anything; and Boris in his wanderings through the forest continually
found himself turning over in his mind the idea that if war broke
out with Sweden he must have a share in the business, ay, even if he
enlisted as a soldier of the lowest rank to do it. Had not the Tsar
himself started at the very foot of the ladder? then why not he? He
was barely twenty-eight; there was plenty of time to carve himself out
new honour and a new career with the sword. And if, _if_ he were so
fortunate as to gain the notice of the Tsar, by some feat of arms, for
instance, or some act of bravery on the battle-field--and the Tsar's
eye saw everything, so that it would not escape his notice--who knows?
As a new man his beloved master might take him into new favour.
Occupied with these thoughts, Boris walked one winter day through the
forest, looking for the tracks of any beast that should have had the
misfortune to pass where he too wandered. Suddenly the hunter was
pulled up in his reflections, as also in his stride, by a largish
footprint in the snow. He knew it at once for what it was--a wolf's;
but the experienced eye of Boris knew also at a glance what a less
expert woodcraftsman would not have known--namely, that here had passed
not one wolf but several, for wolves prefer to tread in one another's
tracks, in order to save themselves the trouble of plunging into the
snow and out again.
Boris examined the track, and judged that there must have been five or
six wolves, at least, travelling in a procession, and also that they
must have passed this spot but a very short while ago, for the loose
snow-powder still sifted into the holes left by the animals' feet.
The sporting instincts of Boris never required much to arouse them when
dormant, and in a moment Boris had forgotten all about the possible
Swedish war, and enlistment, and everything else, excepting the fact
that here was a family of wolves, and here was he, the hunter, and that
the sooner he followed up and engaged those wolves the greater would be
his happiness. So away went Boris upon the trail, flying like the wind
upon his light Archangel snow-shoes, which are the best in the world,
and the use of which Boris understood perhaps better than any man in
all Russia.
Before he had gone very far the hunter noticed that the track of a man,
without snow-shoes, came into that of the wolves, cross-wise--that is,
the wolves had come upon the track of this man, and had turned aside
to follow it. "Hungry wolves," said Boris to himself; "going to run in
the man's tracks--perhaps to attack him if they get a good chance!"
Accordingly Boris hastened on, for he scented fun in this, and his life
of late had been terribly lacking in incident.
The tracks meandered about in the most curious way, now heading in one
direction, now in another, and at last travelling round in a complete
circle and recrossing a point where they had passed before; and
wherever the man went the wolves had gone also. "Lost his way," thought
Boris. "How frightened the poor fellow must have been when he crossed
his own track and saw there were wolves after him!" Then the hunter
could see that after crossing the old tracks the wanderer had greatly
accelerated his pace. "Frightened," thought Boris; "and small wonder."
Soon there was audible at no great distance a noise of yelpings, such
as wolves make when they grow excited in the pursuit of their prey; and
Boris rightly concluded that these wolves were very hungry, and not
likely to hold back from attacking a single man, unless he should be
provided with fire-arms. He had better make all speed, or the matter
might end unpleasantly for one of the members of the hunt.
And presently Boris ran suddenly into a stirring sight. There, before
him, with his back to a tree, stood a big, kaftaned man, armed with a
dagger, keeping at bay as best he could a band of seven wolves, who, to
judge by their demeanour, had every intention of pulling him down. If
there was one thing in all the world that Boris would have chosen, it
was such an enterprise as this. His very soul was athirst for a good
slashing fight with man or beast--it was four or five years since he
had engaged in a real scrimmage against odds, such as this promised to
be; so Boris flourished his axe and rushed into the thick of it with a
shout of real exultation. Right and left he slashed, and right and left
again, and two wolf-lives had gone out in a moment, while two other
gray bleeding creatures crawled yelping and snarling away to die in
hiding. Another rush in, and the foe would wait no longer, but turned,
and in an instant were skulking away into the forest.
Then for the first time Boris looked up at the man whom he had saved
from the unpleasant position of a minute or two ago, and as he raised
his eyes the axe fell from his hand, and his heart gave a great bound
of surprise and joy, and then stood still.
Of all the men in the world least likely to be met with in this place,
of all men in the world that Boris loved the dearest and honoured the
most, and most ardently longed to see and to speak to, it was he--the
Tsar--Peter!
For a full minute neither spoke. The heart of Boris was too full for
words, and his tongue refused to utter sound of any sort. When at
length the silence was broken, it was the Tsar who spoke, and his voice
seemed to Boris unlike the old boisterous voice of three years ago; it
was quieter and a little tremulous.
"Boris," said the Tsar, "this cannot be accident; we are but puppets in
the hands of a mightier Power which overrides our puny will and laughs
at our dispositions. This is the fourth time, I account it, that you
have directly or indirectly stood between me and death; how can I
possibly continue to hold aloof from you, my brother?"
At these words all the old love and devotion that Boris had felt for
his master completely overcame him, and he fairly flung himself at
Peter's knees and hugged them, weeping.
"No, no; get you up, my Bear-eater," said the Tsar, raising him.
"It appears to me that we were both somewhat wrong upon a memorable
occasion; I have since thought so more than once. And having said this
much, I will neither say nor hear another word in respect of those
events, which are done with and lie buried in the past. As concerning
the present, my Boris, what brought you so miraculously here at the
precise moment when you of all men were the most needed? I had you in
my mind as you appeared, and had but that instant bethought me that I
would you were with me as of old; and at that same instant you came."
Then Boris, his heart bursting with great joy, began to tell the Tsar
how that his house was but a few miles away, and that in this same
house he and Nancy had dwelt for the last three years. Peter knew
nothing of all this, for the name of Boris was never breathed at court
since the day of his disgrace, seeing that the Tsar himself never
spoke it. Then Peter in his turn explained how he had wandered from
his suite in pursuit of a roebuck, but had lost his way; and how he
had not thought of danger until he found himself pursued by wolves and
armed with but a knife. And both thanked God that Boris and his axe had
chanced to wander in the same direction.
Then the pair got to talking of old days and their many adventures
together as they walked towards the house; and the Tsar graciously
said that now he had found him again, he could only wonder how he had
contrived to do without his faithful bear-eater so long, and would
Boris, forgetting all that had been unpleasant in the past, return
to his service once more, and things should be as they had been at
the return from England? And Boris could only weep for joy, and this
foolishness was the wisest thing he could find to do.