NIGHT IN THE FOREST
As the sounds of flight and pursuit receded, I crawled out of the ditch,
and called softly to my companion, who answered me, from the other side
of the road, with a groan and an oath.
"I am hurt; it is my leg--my ankle; I cannot stand," he said
despairingly.
As the lightning flared again, I saw his face for a moment, plastered
with black mud, and furious with pain and chagrin. I groped my way
across to him, hauled him out of the ditch, and felt his limbs to try to
ascertain the extent of his injury.
It might have been worse, for there were no broken bones, as I had
feared at first; but he had a badly sprained ankle.
"Bind it--hard, with your handkerchief," he said, between his set teeth.
"We must get out of this, into the wood. They will return directly."
His grit was splendid, for he never uttered a sound--though his foot
must have hurt him badly--as I helped him up. Supporting him as well as
I could, we stumbled into the wood, groping our way through the
darkness, and thankful for every flash that gave us light, an instant at
a time, and less dazzling--though more dangerous--here under the canopy
of pine branches than yonder on the open road.
Even if Mishka had not been lamed, our progress must have been slow, for
the undergrowth was thick; still, he managed to get along somehow,
leaning on me, and dragging himself forward by grasping each slender
pine trunk that he lurched up against.
He sank down at length, utterly exhausted, and, in the pause that
followed, above the sound of our labored breathing and the ceaseless
patter of the rain on the pines, I heard the jangle of the cavalry
patrol returning along the road. Had "Ivan" eluded or outdistanced them?
Were they taking him back with them, a prisoner; or, worst of all, had
they shot him?
The sounds passed--how close we still were to the road!--and gradually
died away.
"He has escaped, thanks be to God!" Mishka said, in a hoarse whisper.
"How do you know that?"
"If they had overtaken him they would have found the droshky empty, and
would have sought us along the road."
"Well, what now? How far are we from the meeting-place?"
"Three versts, more or less. We should have been there by this time!
Come, let us get on. Have you the pocket lamp? We can use it now. It
will help us a little, and we shall strike a track before long."
The lamp was a little flash-light torch which I had slipped into my
pocket at the last moment, and showed to Mishka when I was changing my
clothes. It served us well now, for the lightning flashes were less
frequent; the worst of the storm was over.
I suppose we must have gone about half a verst--say the third of an
English mile--when we found the track he had mentioned, a rough and
narrow one, trodden out by the foresters, and my spirits rose at the
sight of it. At least it must lead somewhere!
Here Mishka stumbled and fell again.
"It is useless. I can go no further, and I am only a hindrance. But
you--what will you do--?"
"I'm going on; I'll find the place somehow."
"Follow the track till you come to an open space,--a clearing; it is a
long way ahead. Cross that to your right, and, if your lamp holds, or
the storm passes, you will see a tree blazed with five white marks, such
as the foresters make. There is another track there; follow it till you
are challenged; and the rest will be easy. God be with you."
We gripped hands and parted. I guessed we should not meet again in this
world, though we might in the next,--and that pretty soon!
I pushed on rapidly. The track, though narrow, was good enough, and I
only had to flash my torch occasionally. I was afraid of the battery
giving out, which, as a fact, it did before I emerged in the clearing
Mishka had mentioned. But the light was better now, for the storm had
passed; and in this northern latitude there is no real night in summer,
only "the daylight sick," as Von Eckhardt would say. Out in the clearing
I could see quite a distance. The air felt fresh and pleasant and the
patch of sky overhead was an exquisite topaz tint. I stood to draw
breath, and for a moment the sheer splendor of the night,--the solemn
silence,--held me spellbound with some strange emotion in which awe and
joy were mingled. Yes, joy! For although I had lost my two good
comrades, and was undertaking, alone, a task which could scarcely have
been accomplished by three desperate men, my heart was light. I had
little hope, now, of saving Anne, as we reckon salvation in this poor
earth-life; but I could, and would, die with and for her; and together,
hand in hand, we would pass to the fuller, freer life beyond, where the
mystery that encompassed her, and that had separated us, would vanish.
I was about to cross the clearing, keeping to the right and seeking for
the blazed tree, as Mishka had told me, when I heard the faint sound of
stealthy footsteps through the wet grass that grew tall and rank here in
the open. In the soft light a shadowy figure came from the opposite
side, passed across the space, and disappeared among the further trees,
followed almost immediately by two more. The time was now, as I guessed,
after midnight, and these were late comers, who had been delayed by the
storm, or perhaps, like myself, had had to dodge the patrol.
I followed the last two in my turn, and at the place where they
re-entered the wood I saw the gleam of the white blazes on the tree. I
had struck the path right enough, and went along it confidently in the
gloom of the trees, for perhaps a hundred yards, when a light flashed a
few paces in front of me, just for a second, and I saw against the gleam
the figures of the two men who were preceding me. They had passed on
when I reached the place, and a hand grasped my shoulder, while the
light was flashed in my face. I saw now it was a dark lantern, such as
policemen carry in England.
"The password, stranger, and the sign," a hoarse voice whispered in the
darkness that followed the momentary flash of light.
I felt for his hand, gave both word and sign, and was allowed to go on,
to be challenged again in a similar manner at a little distance. Here
the picket detained me.
"You are a stranger, comrade; do you know the way?" he asked. All the
questions and answers had been in Russian.
"No. I will follow those in front."
He muttered something, and a second man stepped out on to the path, and
bade me follow him. How many others were at hand I do not know. The wood
seemed full of stealthy sounds.
My guide followed the path for only a short distance further, then
turned aside, drawing me after him, his hand on my coat-sleeve.
"Be careful; the trees are thick hereabouts," he said in a low voice, as
he walked sideways. He seemed to know every inch of the way. I followed
his example, and after a minute or two of this crab-like progress we
emerged into a second clearing, smaller than the first, made round a
small building, from which came the subdued sound of voices, though for
a moment I could see no light. Then a door was partially opened,
emitting a faint gleam, and two men passed in,--doubtless those whom I
had seen in front of me just now.
Without a word my guide turned back into the darkness, and I walked
forward boldly, pushed the door, which gave under my touch, and entered
the place.