A Russian of rank was serving as an officer in the army of the Caucasus.
His name was Zhilin.
There came to him one day a letter from his home. His aged mother wrote
him: "I am now getting along in years, and before I die I should like to
see my beloved son. Come and bid me farewell, lay me in the ground, and
then with my blessing return again to your service. And I have been finding
a bride for you, and she is intelligent and handsome and has property. If
you like, you can marry and settle down together."
Zhilin cogitated, "It is very true: the old lady has been growing feeble;
maybe I shall not have a chance to see her again. Let us go, and if the
bride is pretty--then I might marry."
He went to his colonel, got his leave of absence, took his farewell of his
comrades, gave the soldiers of his command nine gallons[95] of vodka as a
farewell treat, and made his arrangements to depart.
[Footnote 95: Four _vedros_, equivalent exactly to 8.80 gallons.]
There was war at that time in the Caucasus. The roads were not open for
travel either by day or night. If any of the Russians rode or walked
outside of the fortress, the Tatars were likely either to kill him or
carry him off to the mountains. And it was arranged that twice a week an
escort of soldiers should go from fortress to fortress. In front and behind
marched the soldiers, and the travellers rode in the middle.
It was now summer-time. At sunrise the baggage-train was made up behind the
fortification; the guard of soldiery marched ahead, and the procession
moved along the road.
Zhilin was on horseback, and his effects were on a cart that formed part of
the train.
They had twenty-five versts[96] to travel. The train marched slowly;
sometimes the soldiers halted; sometimes a wagon-wheel came off, or a horse
balked, and all had to stop and wait.
[Footnote 96: Sixteen and a half miles.]
The sun was already past the zenith, but the train had only gone half way,
so great were the dust and heat. The sun was baking hot, and nowhere was
there shelter. A bald steppe; not a tree or a shrub on the road.
Zhilin rode on ahead, occasionally stopping and waiting till the train
caught up with him. He would listen, and hear the signal on the horn to
halt again. And Zhilin thought, "Would I better go on alone without the
soldiers? I have a good horse under me; if I fall in with the Tatars, I can
escape. Or shall I wait?"
He kept stopping and pondering. And just then another officer, also on
horseback, rode up to him; his name was Kostuilin, and he had a musket.
He said, "Zhilin, let us ride on ahead together. I am so hungry that I
cannot stand it any longer, and the heat too,--you could wring my shirt
out!" Kostuilin was a heavy, stout, ruddy man, and the sweat was dripping
from him.