Trapped
NO doubt Yefraim Issakoff of the saw-mill was wise enough to know that
none of the usual modes of deception would be of any use with such an
experienced skipper as old Ivan. And the spy had probably witnessed and
duly informed his master that the clever raftsman had joined the "Swan"
at the last stopping-place. So, putting their wicked heads together,
Issakoff and his men devised another method which they thought was sure
of success.
Meanwhile, the "Swan," towed at a fine pace by Kostia and Sasha—reached
the narrow place where the river began to curve, and it found no rope
stretched under water to bar their progress. The sturdy towing-men
were to have been taken on board just before the curve was reached, as
they would be needed for working the poles and steadying the raft amid
the rush and swirl of the water. But just as the "Swan" was about to
pick up first one, then another of the skipper's sons, there came an
agonised scream from the river round the corner and out of sight of the
raftsmen.
"Help! Help!" again yelled the voice. "I perish! I drown! Oh help!"
The screams diverted the attention of Kostia and Sasha, who, instead of
trying to board the "Swan," pressed forward to the point of land that
formed the river's curve.
Deprived of their help, it was all that Ivan, Vassia, and Sergey could
do, to get the clumsy craft round the corner. And as it was, the dash
of the water swept the "Swan" once sharply against the rock, and but
for the old skipper's outstretched hand, Sergey would have been jerked
off into the water.
As soon as the raft had rounded the curve, those on the deck, and
Kostia and Sasha on opposite banks—could see a man struggling in
the water. The two young men rushed forward, ready to plunge to his
rescue, when suddenly the drowning man's left cheek came to view, and
lo, across it flamed the scarlet mark. Also, at that very moment,
it flashed upon all the witnesses, both on and off the raft, that
the so-called drowning man was a fraud, and only pretending to be in
distress.
"Hold, Sasha!" cried Kostia from the edge of the stream. "Do nothing!
It is the spy! Father, take us on board quick! You need not stop, come
near the bank, and I will leap, and then we will pick up Sasha from his
side."
But almost before the words were out of his mouth, a strong noosed cord
was thrown round him from behind, where the trees were thick, and the
deepest shadows fell. And at the same moment Sasha too dropped to the
ground on the bank, captured in the same manner by invisible enemies.
In a trice the nooses were drawn taut round the shoulders and arms of
the young men, and they were fastened to pine-trees. Others of the
enemy caught the raft by means of boat-hooks strapped to long poles,
and in spite of all that Ivan, Vassia, and Sergey could do, the "Swan"
was pulled to shore and made fast, and the old skipper and his son were
bound just as Kostia and Sasha had been.
In the struggle and confusion, however, Sergey was overlooked, and so
managed to slip out of sight and hide. But as soon as the marauding
party began to move away with their prisoners, the boy followed, hiding
and dodging among the trees, rightly judging that as he was free, he
might perhaps be of service later. The raft could not well be broken up
before morning, so it was safe enough at the bank.
Sergey, keeping the raiders and their four prisoners well in sight,
followed through the wood, and from the thick shelter of the
undergrowth watched the whole party emerge into a wide open space where
stood the saw-mill, and near it a house and a shed. He noticed that
Sasha was one of the prisoners, so that the men who secured him on
the other bank of the river, must have punted him across. And the lad
wondered at the care and fore-thought spent in making their wicked plan
so successful. He saw the prisoners thrust into the shed, and a heavy
bolt shot home to keep them safe. All the raiders went into the house,
and Sergey noticed how one room on the ground-floor was lighted up just
after the men entered.
After a while, he ventured to come out from his hiding-place, and peep
in through the uncurtained window, which, though covered nearly all
over with dust and dirt, had one clean corner which gave him a good
view. He saw the whole party gathered round a table on which were two
huge bottles of vodki and a number of glasses. At the head of the table
sat a middle-aged, wicked-looking man, to whom the rest seemed to defer.
This, Sergey was sure, must be Yefraim Issakoff, the owner of the
saw-mill.
The men were a rough, wild set of follows, just the sort to carry out
the bidding of such a master. In these lonely places all kinds of
crimes are committed and go unpunished, for the police are few, even in
the towns, and are so wretchedly paid that they are always open to a
bribe from any malefactor who will make it worth while for them to shut
their official eyes.
Meanwhile, the only member of the "Swan's" crew at liberty, and fully
realising how much might depend upon his knowing the exact position of
affairs, Sergey watched and listened intently, seeing and hearing all
that passed.
"Well, my men," roared Issakoff, "we've made a grand haul to-night!"
"Ay, it was a fine bit of work, it was," responded the spy; "especially
my drowning."
"Thou hast always some compliment to pay thyself, young Scratch-face!"
said another of the men. "By my faith, if thou—"
"I suppose that barn is safe?" interrupted Issakoff.
"Ay, we could keep a wild bull in it," replied a big burly man who was
shaggy enough for a bear. "It's as strong as a prison."
"'What became of that boy?" inquired Issakoff. "There 'was' a boy,
wasn't there?"
At this mention of himself, "that boy" cowered to the earth for a
minute or two, but he could hear the reply in the spy's voice.
"Yes, I think there was a boy, but he doesn't count; he was quite
small, and I dare say he was drowned."
"We'll hope so," rejoined Issakoff. "Now, brothers, pass the bottles
round. No need to keep sober to-night. The raft is ours, the men are
safe, and if there is any fuss to-morrow, I shall lodge information in
the next town and say I caught them carrying off my property, and so I
took their raft for compensation. So now, my children, let us drink to
the song of the dying 'Swan,' and to-morrow the 'Swan' will be dead!"
And Yefraim Issakoff lifted his glass high in air, and laughed loud and
long.