"Mother had gone to the town in the sledge, and father lay asleep on the
top of the stove. It was afternoon. I was minding Minka, and we played
at having a shop with the bits of pot from the mug Minka broke. Then I
remembered it was time to cut the fodder and feed the beasts, which I
can do as well as father now. So I took the fodder knife and stole out.
I left the door open a bit--not enough to let the cold in on father, but
enough to hear Minka if she cried. I had fed the cows in the byre and
had got to the corner of the house coming back, when I heard Minka
scream."
As Ivanka uttered the last word his breath came fast. He tossed back his
locks with a sudden jerk of the head. Like a gladiator preparing for
combat, he threw out his chest, setting his teeth, whilst his small,
muscular fingers contracted, doubling in like the claws of a falcon.
Forgotten was the princely presence with that piteous appeal smiting his
ears.
[Illustration: "I SPRANG FORWARD."]
"I sprang forward," he continued, "and saw Minka. She was on the ground
just outside the door. And over her hung a monster, grim and terrible.
His wicked eyes gleamed red, and his cruel teeth were long and sharp. I
saw them as he lifted his bristling lip to seize her in his jowl."
A dry sob rose in Ivanka's throat and made him pause. He coughed it
impatiently away.
"It seemed to me then--just for a moment of horror--as though my limbs
were bound and I could not move, until the beast began to drag Minka
away. At the sight strength came to me, and with a yell I threw myself
upon him."
"You were not afraid?" put in the Prince, who had never taken his eyes
off the boy since he began to speak.
"I did not think of fear," replied Ivanka, "I thought of my poor little
Minka, and oh, how fiercely I hated the monster. Hate kills fear," he
added, reflectively.
"And then?" inquired the Prince.
"Oh, then he dropped Minka, and over and over we rolled in the snow, he
snarling and worrying my sheep's skin. He would soon have made an end of
me but for my sheep's skin." And the boy patted his breast and looked
himself over complacently.
"And after?" the Prince again recalled him.
"After that he shook me until my bones rattled in my skin. Then I was
under him and my mouth was full of his hair, and I was so spent that I
would have let him finish me. But Minka cried, 'Ivanka! Ivanka!' and it
seemed too hard to leave her. It was that moment I remembered that I
still grasped the knife.
"How I struggled round between his mighty paws until my arm was free to
plunge the weapon in his throat I know not, but I felt the blood gush
out over my face. And then--and then, Minka's voice went farther and
farther away and I seemed to be falling as a star falls through the
air."
As Ivanka ceased speaking, a half-stifled sob was heard from the
interior of the room. The Prince had covered his eyes with his hand as
though dazzled. Yet the sun had gone down and the place was more gloomy
than ever. The peasant stepped forward out of the shadows and stood
before the Prince in the dim light of the window. He took up the tale.
[Illustration: "I STRUGGLED ROUND UNTIL MY ARM WAS FREE."]
"It was the screams of the little one that awoke me, your High Nobility,
and I ran out. Ah, never shall I forget the sight that met my eyes!
There lay my little son, dabbled in blood, and beside him the wolf on
its back, kicking in death convulsions. When I picked up my Ivanka I
thought him dead, and my heart would have broken had he not at once
opened his eyes.
"'Minka,' he whispered, 'is she hurt?'
"'My darling, no,' I answered. 'She screams too lustily to be hurt.'
"'And the wolf?' He raised his head from my shoulder and looked wildly
around.
"'He is dead. You have slain him, my hero,' I assured him.
"Then he shut his eyes with a great sigh.
"'Let me sleep, father,' he murmured. 'I am so tired.'"
The peasant chuckled. "He was played out, my little wolf-slayer. The
Noble Prince should have seen how he lay like a sack, and slept and
slept!"
Meanwhile Ivanka had grown shy again and gazed wistfully towards the
door. But the Prince still held him between his knees. Even when he rose
to go, the High Noble detained the boy with a hand on his head.
"Give him to me," he said to the peasant. "Let me take him with me when
I go to Petersburg. I will make a great man of him. He shall be a
soldier and fight for the Czar."
There was dead silence. The peasant's face had gone crimson. His eyes
flew to his son and held him in jealous regard.
"Will you go with me, Ivanka, you wolf-slayer, to help keep the human
wolves from invading the dominions of the Czar? You shall be taught with
the sons of the highest in the land, and shall wear the uniform of an
Imperial cadet."
Ivanka raised solemn eyes to the face that was bent towards him. It was
a noble face, handsome and benign, and imposing against the swelling
sable of the high collar.
"He is great and good and beautiful, like my patron saint, Ivan," he
thought. Something stirred in the gloom of the hut, and quickly Ivanka
turned to where his mother sat with the sleeping Minka in her lap. His
lip began to quiver.
The peasant found his tongue. "Give him time, Noble Prince," he
faltered, huskily, and he too looked towards the crouching figure by the
stove. "It is a great thing the High Noble offers, but the boy is very
young."
"Take your time," replied the Prince. "In the spring I shall return.
Then, since you are sensible people, he will be ready to go."
[Illustration: "THE GREAT MAN PRESSED A ROLL OF NOTES INTO HIS HAND."]
With these words the great man stooped and kissed Ivanka, pressing a
roll of notes into his hand. From the door Ivanka watched the Prince
depart. He gazed after the fine sledge with its prancing horses as they
sped, swift as the wind, towards the wonderful, mysterious city of the
Great Czar. When it had disappeared and the merry jingle of the silver
bells no longer reached his ear it was to him as though a bright
noontide sun had suddenly dropped from the heavens. And there and then a
feeling of longing after greater things crept into his valiant little
heart.
"You shall decide for yourself, my son," said the peasant. And the
mother hid her grief because she wished Ivanka to be a great man.
Thus it was that when the spring came to stir the sap in the trees and
release the ice-bound brooks, at the return of the Prince, Ivanka was
ready to go.
_In Nature's Workshop._