PREPARATIONS FOR FLIGHT.
The next morning Godfrey and Mikail were by the doctor's orders carried
to the hospital and placed in a comfortable and well-arranged ward. "You
won't have to be here many days," the doctor said when he came round the
ward. "I only had you brought here because the air is sweeter and better
than it is in that room you were in." An hour later the governor with a
clerk came in. Mikail was first called upon for his statement, which was
written down by the clerk.
"Had you any reason for supposing that the man had any special enmity
against you?" the governor asked.
"Only because of that flogging he had for the row in the ward last week,
sir."
"Ah, yes, he was one of those who attacked you then and was flogged;
that accounts for it."
Then Godfrey gave his account of what had happened.
"Did you observe anything that made you specially watchful?" the
governor asked.
"I thought perhaps one of them might try to take revenge on Mikail, sir.
One or two of them were very sullen and surly, and would, I thought, do
him harm if they had the chance; but I suspected this man more than the
others because he seemed so unnaturally pleasant, and as I had heard him
boasting about the things for which he is here, I thought he was more
dangerous than those who grumbled and threatened."
The governor nodded. "Yes, he is a thorough-paced villain; you have done
very well, young man, and I shall not forget it."
Five days later there was a stir in front of the hospital, and Mikail,
whose bed was by the side of the window, raised himself on his elbow and
looked out.
"It is a punishment parade," he said; "I expect they are going to flog
Koshkin with the _plete_. No governor of a prison is allowed to do that
until the circumstances of the case have been sent to the governor of
the province, and the sentence receives his approval; that is no doubt
what has caused the delay. All the prisoners are mustering."
Godfrey, who was in the next bed, managed to draw himself on to
Mikail's, and then to sit up so as to look out. The whole of the
convicts of that prison, some eight hundred in number, were drawn up
forming three sides of a square; in front of them, four paces apart,
were a line of soldiers with fixed bayonets, while behind was another
line. Then Koshkin, stripped to the waist, was brought forward and bound
to a thick board having an iron leg, so that when laid down the board
inclined to an angle of about thirty degrees. On this he was so strapped
as to be perfectly immovable. Then a man approached with the dreaded
whip and took his place on one side of the criminal. The governor then
entered the square. He was attended by all the prison officials. His
face was very grave and stern, and he walked along the lines,
scrutinizing closely each man as he passed him. Then he took his place
in the centre of the square and held up his hand.
"This man," he said, "has attempted to murder the starosta of his ward,
and is for this sentenced to fifty lashes. Let this be a lesson to all
here."
Then he signalled to the executioner, who brought down his lash with
great force upon the bare back of the prisoner. A terrible cry broke
from Koshkin. Two more blows were given, and then the executioner moved
to the other side and delivered another three blows. In this way the
lashes crossed each other at an angle. Godfrey could look no more, but
crawled back on to his own bed. Mikail continued looking out until the
punishment was over.
"He has not bled," he said; "he will die."
"How do you mean, Mikail?"
"Well, that is how it is, Ivan. It is as the executioner likes, or as he
is ordered. He can, according to the way he strikes, cut the flesh or
not each stroke. If it bleeds the man seldom dies, if it doesn't there
is little chance for him. There are several ways of flogging the
prisoner, and his friends generally bribe the executioner; then he
strikes with all his strength the first blow that is terrible, but it
seems to numb the flesh somehow, and afterwards he does not strike so
hard, and the prisoner hardly feels the blows. The worst is when he hits
softly at first and then harder and harder, then the man feels every
blow to the end; but they are obliged to hit hard, if not they get
flogged themselves. I saw a case where the executioner had been well
bribed and, therefore, hit gently, and the prisoner was taken down and
he was tied up in his place and got twenty lashes. Years ago they used
the _plete_ at all the prisons, now they only use it at three prisons,
where the worst criminals are sent, and this is one of them."
A week later they were both discharged from the hospital and returned to
the ward. The first thing they heard on entering it was that Koshkin had
died the night before. Godfrey went back to his work in the office. He
was doubtful how he should be received in the ward, but he found that,
except by Kobylin and four or five others, he was welcomed quite
cordially.
"You have done us all a service," Osip said. "There was sure to have
been trouble sooner or later, and that flogging will cow these fellows
for some time. This is only the second there has been since I came
here--I mean, of course, at this prison. Besides, Mikail is a good
fellow, and we all like him, and everyone would have been sorry if he
had been killed."
"What is he in for? I never asked before. Of course, I see that he has
the murderer's badge on his back. Do you know how it happened? I never
heard him speak of it."
"Yes, he told us about it one evening, that was before he became
starosta. Some vodka had been smuggled in and he had more than was good
for him, and that opened his lips. He had been a charcoal-burner and
having had the good fortune to escape the conscription he married. She
was a pretty girl, and it seems that the son of a rich proprietor had
taken a fancy to her, and when the next year's conscription came he
managed by some unfair means to get Mikail's name put down again on the
list. Such things can be done, you know, by a man with influence. Mikail
ran away and took to the woods. He was hunted for two or three months in
vain. Then someone betrayed him, and one morning he woke up in a hut he
had built for himself and saw the place was surrounded by soldiers.
"With the officers was the man who had injured him. Mikail was mad with
fury, and rushing out with a big club he had cut he stretched the fellow
dead on the ground--and served him right. However, of course Mikail was
taken, tried, and condemned. He had killed a noble's son, and three
weeks later was on his way to Siberia. His wife has followed him, and is
living now in a village two miles away. Another six months and Mikail
will have served his ten years, which is the least time a murderer can
serve before he gets leave to live outside the prison. He is sure to get
it then, his conduct has been always good, and no doubt this affair will
count in his favour. His wife came out two years after he was sent here.
She keeps herself by spinning and helping at a farm. It has been a good
thing for Mikail, for it has kept him straight. If it had not been for
that he would have taken to the woods long ago."
"I don't call that a murder," Godfrey said indignantly. "If I had been
on the jury I would never have convicted him. He was treated illegally
and had the right to resist."
"I don't blame him very much myself," Osip said. "Of course it would
have been wiser to have submitted, and then to have tried to get off
serving, but I don't suppose anyone would have listened to him. If it
hadn't been a noble he killed I have no doubt he would have got off."
"But you are noble yourself, Osip."
"Yes, but that does not give me any marked advantage at present. Of
course it will make a difference when I get out. My friends will send me
money, and I shall live at Tobolsk and marry some wealthy gold-miner's
daughter, and be in the best society. Oh, yes, it is an advantage being
noble born, even in Siberia."
Godfrey was quite touched with the joy that Luka manifested when, on his
return from work, he found him in the ward. "Ah, my master," he
exclaimed, with tears in his eyes, "why did you not tell me that you
were watching? I would have kept awake all night and would have thrown
myself on that dog; it would have made no matter if he had killed me. It
would not have hurt me so much as it did to see you bleeding."
"You must not call me master," Godfrey said, holding out his hand, which
the Tartar seized and pressed to his forehead. "You and I are friends,
there are no masters here."
Godfrey learnt that every effort had been made by the authorities to
discover how Koshkin had obtained the knife, but without success. He
must have bribed one of the guards to fetch it in for him, but there was
no tracing which had been concerned in the matter. All the prisoners
had been searched and their bags examined, but no other weapons had
been discovered. Godfrey did not hear a single word of pity for Koshkin,
or of regret at his death. Indifference for others was one of the
leading characteristics of the prisoners. Although living so long
together they seldom appeared to form a friendship of any kind; each man
lived for and thought only of his own lot. Godfrey observed that it was
very seldom that a prisoner shared any dainty he had purchased with
another, and it was only when three or four had clubbed together to get
in a ham, a young sucking pig, or some vodka that they were seen to
partake of it together.
Some of the prisoners, indeed, scarcely ever exchanged a word with the
rest, but moved about in moody silence paying no attention to what was
going on around them. Some again were always quarrelling, and seemed to
take a delight in stirring up others by giving them unpleasant
nicknames, or by turning them into ridicule.
"I am glad indeed, Mikail," Godfrey said, as he lay down beside the
starosta that night, "that you were not seriously hurt. I only heard
to-day that you had a wife waiting for you outside."
"Yes, it is true," Mikail replied. "I never talk of her. I dare not even
let myself think of her, it seems too great a happiness to be true; and
something may occur, one never knows. Ah, Ivan, if it had not been for
you what news would have been taken to her! Think of it, after her long
journey out here; after waiting ten years for me, to hear that it was
useless. I tremble like a leaf when I think of it. That night I lay
awake all night and cried like a young child, not for myself, you know,
but for her. She has taken a cottage already, and is furnishing it with
her savings. She is allowed to write to me, you know, once every month.
At first it was every three months. What happiness it was to me when my
first five years was up and she could write once a month! Do you think I
shall know her? She will have changed much. I tell myself that always;
and I--I have changed much too, but she will know me, I am sure she will
know me. I tremble now at the thought of our meeting, Ivan; but I ought
not to talk so, I ought not to speak to you of my happiness--you, who
have no friend waiting to see you."
"I like to hear you talk of your wife, Mikail. My friends are a long way
off indeed; but I hope that I shall see them before very long."
"You think that you may be pardoned?" Mikail asked.
"No, I mean to escape."
"Ah, lad," Mikail said kindly, "I don't suppose there is ever a prisoner
comes here who does not say to himself, I will escape. Every spring
there are thousands who take to the woods, and scarce one of these but
hopes never to see the inside of a prison again, and yet they come back,
every one of them."
"But there have been escapes, Mikail, therefore there is nothing
impossible in it."
"There are twenty thousand convicts cross the frontier every year, lad.
There is not one man makes his escape in five years."
"Well, I mean to be the man this five years, Mikail."
"I would not try if I were you. Were you in on a life sentence for
murder, or still worse, as a political prisoner, I would say try if you
like, for you would have nothing to lose; but you have a good prospect
now. I am sure you must have been a political, but now that you have
been a wanderer you are so no longer. You have won the governor's
good-will, and as soon as your time is up, perhaps before, you will be
allowed to live outside the prison. If you go away in the spring you
will, when you return as winter comes on, forfeit all this, and have to
begin again. When you come out there will be my little hut ready for
you, and such a welcome from my wife and me that you will forget how
small and rough it is, and there you will live with us till your five
years are up, and you can go anywhere you like in Siberia."
"I thank you sincerely, Mikail, and I should, I am sure, be as happy as
an exile could be with you and your faithful wife; but if I have to try
afresh every year for twenty years I will break out and strive to
escape. You know that I am English by my mother's side. I can tell you
now that I am altogether English, and I will gain England or die. At any
rate, if it is to be done I will do it. I have health and strength and
determination. I have learnt all that there is to be learnt as to the
difficulties of the journey. I have more to gain, more to strive for
than other prisoners. Even if they escape they cannot return home. They
must still be exiled from Russia; must earn their bread among strangers
as they are earning it here. I have a home awaiting me--a father,
mother, and sisters--to whom I shall come back as one from the grave.
Why, man, the difficulties are nothing in comparison to the reward. A
journey across Asia is as nothing to the journeys many of my countrymen
have made across Africa. Here there is no fear of fever, of savage
tribes, or savage beasts. It is in comparison a mere pleasure excursion.
I may not succeed next time, just as I did not succeed last year, but
succeed in the end I will."
"I believe you," Mikail said earnestly, infected by Godfrey's
enthusiasm. "Did you not overthrow, as if he were a babe, Kobylin, whom
everyone else feared? Yes, if anyone can do it you can."
At last the long winter was over, the thaw came, and the work at the
mine was renewed. Godfrey was afraid that he might be still kept in the
office, and he spoke to Mikail on the subject; the latter spoke to one
of the officials, and told him that the prisoner Ivan Holstoff
petitioned that he might be again put to work on the mine instead of
being kept in the office, as he felt his health suffering from the
confinement. Two days later Godfrey was called into the governor's room.
"I hear that you have asked to go to the mine again, lad."
"Yes, sir; I like active work better than sitting indoors all day."
The colonel looked at him keenly. "You are doing well here, lad; it will
be a pity to have to begin over again. I can guess what is in your
thoughts. Think it over, lad, don't do anything rash; but if--," and he
hesitated, "if you are headstrong and foolish, remember you will be
better off here than elsewhere, and that I am never very hard on
runaways. That will do; you will go out again with the gang to-morrow."
"Thank you, sir," Godfrey said earnestly, and with a bow returned to his
work at the desk in the next room.
On the following day work at the mine was resumed. Godfrey at once began
his preparations for his flight, and as a first step managed to conceal
under a lump of rock a heavy hammer and a pick used in the work; he had
already laid in a stock of a dozen boxes of matches. The next evening he
said to Mikail when they had lain down for the night,--
"Now, Mikail, I want you to help me."
"So you really mean to go?"
"Yes, my mind is quite made up. I want you to get me in some things from
outside."
"I will get you anything if you will tell me what you want."
"I want most of all two long knives."
"Yes, knives are useful," Mikail said; "but they are awkward things to
get. I dare not ask any of the people who trade here to get such a
thing. Ah! I know what I will do; I am losing my head. I will steal you
two from the kitchen; but that must be done the last thing, for if
knives were missed there would be a great search for them. What is the
next thing?"
"I should like a coil of thirty or forty yards of fine rope, and some
string. They are always useful things to have."
"That is so," the convict assented.
"Then I shall want some thread and needles."
"There is no difficulty about that; I can buy them for you at the gate.
I don't know what excuse to make to get you the rope, but I will think
of something."
"I don't think there is anything else, except that I should like these
twenty roubles changed into kopecks."
The man nodded. "When will you try?"
"To-morrow. It is dark now by the time we leave off work; it will be
easy to slip away then. Luka is going with me."
"That is good," Mikail said, "he will be very useful; he is a good
little fellow, and will be faithful to you. You had best keep steadily
west, and give yourself up at Irkutsk. It is a rough road working round
by the north of Lake Baikal; but you had better take that way, it is
safer than by the south. But no doubt if you are careful you might go
that way too. Then the summer after, if you can get away again, you can
give up at Tomsk. Once fairly away from here there is no fear of your
being overtaken; they never take the trouble to hunt the woods far, they
know it is of no use. Remember, as long as you don't go too far from the
road, you will light upon cottages and little farm-houses where you can
get something to eat; but if you go too far into the woods you may
starve. There will be no berries except strawberries yet, and
strawberries are not much use to keep life together when you are
travelling."
"Oh, by the by, there is one more thing I want you to get for me if
possible, and that is fish-hooks and line."
"That is difficult," Mikail said; "however, a rouble or two will go a
long way. But you must put off your start for another two or three days.
The rope and the hooks will need time to get."
It was, indeed, the fourth evening before Mikail told Godfrey that he
had got everything except the knives. "I will manage to get these in the
morning," he said, "when I go into the kitchen and see about breakfast.
If I were you, I would put on those two spare shirts over the one you
wear, and take your three spare pairs of stockings. Of course you will
wind the rope round your waist. I suppose you will buy bread from the
others, there are always plenty ready to sell; you had better take
enough for two or three days. Cut it in slices, put them inside your
upper shirt with the other things you take, your belt will keep them
safe. Don't try to slip away unless you see a really good opportunity;
it is no use being shot at. Besides, with those irons on your legs, they
would soon overtake you. Better put it off for another time than to run
any risk."
Godfrey at once informed Luka that they were to try to escape on the
following evening, told him to put on his spare shirts at night, gave
him the matches, and told him to stow away in the morning as much bread
as he could carry. The young Tartar made no reply beyond a pleasant nod;
his confidence in his companion was unbounded. The next morning, while
eating their breakfasts by the dim light of a candle, Mikail passed
close to Godfrey and slipped two long knives into his hand; these he hid
instantly inside his shirt.
"I have got the bread," Mikail said; "it was better for me to buy it
than you. I have put it under your bag."
As it was quite dark in the corner of the room Godfrey had no difficulty
in cutting up the hunks of bread, and concealing them without
observation. Mikail strolled up while he was so engaged. Godfrey had
already given him money for the various purchases, and he now pressed a
hundred-rouble note into his hand, and said:
"Now, Mikail, you must take this from me; it is not a present to you,
but to your brave wife. When you get out you will want to do your share
towards making the house she has got for you comfortable. Till you get
your free ticket you will still be working in the mines like the others;
and though you will get the same pay as free labourers then, it will be
some time before you can lay much by. When your term is over you will
want to take up a piece of land and farm, and you must have money for
this until your crops grow."
"I will not take it," the man said huskily; "it is a hundred roubles. I
would not rob you; you will want every kopeck you have. The money would
be a curse to me."
"I have five hundred still left, Mikail, which will be ample for me. You
will grieve me if you refuse to take it. It will be pleasant to me,
whether I am taken again or whether I escape, to think that I have made
one home happier for my stay here, and that you and your brave wife, in
your comfortable home, think sometimes of the young fellow you were kind
to."
"If you wish it I will take it," Mikail said. "Feodora and I will pray
before the _ikon_ to the saints morning and night to protect you
wherever you may be."
"Pray for me as Godfrey Bullen, Mikail; that is my real name. I am
English, and it is to England I shall make my way."
"Godfrey Bullen," the man repeated four or five times over. "I shall not
forget it. Feodora and I will teach it to our children if the good God
should send us any."
"I should like to let you know if I get safely home," Godfrey said; "how
can I write to you?"
"I can receive letters when I am out of prison," Mikail said. "You know
my name, Mikail Stomoff; put Karoff, that is the name of the village my
wife lives at--Karoff, near Kara. If the letter does not come until my
term is over, and I have left, I will leave word there where it can be
forwarded to me."
"I hope that you will get it long before that, Mikail. The journey is
too long to do in one summer. I shall winter somewhere in the north, and
I hope to be in England by the following autumn; therefore, if I have
got safely away, you may look for a letter before the Christmas after
next. If it does not come by that time, you will know that I have failed
in my first attempt, and then you will, I hope, get one a year later. I
shall, of course, be careful what I say; in case it should be opened and
read, there will be nothing in it about your knowing that I intended to
escape."
"We shall look for it, Godfrey Bullen, we shall look for it always, and
pray the good God to send it to us."
The next morning when Godfrey rose he wrung Mikail's hand warmly.
"God bless you," the starosta said with tears in his eyes. "I shall not
come near you again; they would see that something was strange with me,
and when you were missing, would guess that I knew you were going. May
all the saints preserve you."
Before they formed up to march to their work, Godfrey shook hands with
his friend Osip. "I am going to try on our way back to-night," he said.
"Good-bye, and good luck to you," Osip replied. "I would go with you if
I was in for life; but I have lost two years already by running away,
and I dare not try again."
During the day Godfrey observed very carefully the spot where he had
hidden the tools, so that he might be able to find it in the dark,
piling three small stones one on the top of the other by the roadside at
the point nearest to it. When work was over, he managed to fall in with
Luka at the rear of the line. A Cossack marched alongside of him.
"Five roubles," Godfrey whispered, "if you will let us drop behind."
Five roubles was a large sum to the soldier. The life of the guards was
really harder than that of the prisoners, except that they did no work,
for they had to mount guard at night when the convicts slept, and their
rations were much more scanty than those given to the working convicts,
and they were accustomed to eke out their scanty pay by taking small
bribes for winking at various infractions of the prison rules. The
Cossack at once held out his hand. Godfrey slipped five rouble notes
into it. They kept on till they reached a wood, where beneath the shadow
of the trees it was already perfectly dark.
The Cossack had stepped forward two or three paces and was walking by
the next couple.
"Now, Luka," Godfrey said, and the two sprang off the path among the
trees. They waited two or three minutes, then returned to the road and
hurried back to the mine. They had been the last party to start for the
prison, and the place was quite deserted. It took them fully half an
hour to find the tools. The rings round their ankles were sufficiently
loose to enable the pick to be inserted between them and the leg;
thrusting it in as far as it would go under the rivet, it was
comparatively easy work to break off the head with the hammer. In ten
minutes both were free. Leaving the chains and tools behind them, they
made their way out of the cutting and struck across the country, and in
an hour entered the forest. It was too dark here to permit them to
proceed farther; they lay down and slept until day began to break, and
then continued their way up the rising ground until, after four hours'
walking, they were well among the mountains. They found an open space by
the side of a rivulet where the wild strawberries grew thickly, and here
they sat down and enjoyed a hearty meal of bread and strawberries.
"Now we have got to keep along on this side of that range of mountains
in front of us till we get to Lake Baikal," Godfrey said. "We will push
on for a day or two, and then we must find some cottages, and get rid of
these clothes. What we want above all things, Luka, are guns."
"Yes, or bows and arrows," Luka said.
"It would be as difficult to get them as guns. They don't use them in
these parts, Luka."
"I can make them," Luka said; "not as good as the Ostjaks' bows, but
good enough to kill with."
"That is satisfactory, Luka. If I can get hold of a gun and you can make
a bow and arrows we shall do very well."
For four days they continued their journey through the forest, gathering
much fruit, chiefly strawberries and raspberries, and eating sparingly
of their bread. At night they lit fires, for the evenings were still
cold, and slept soundly beside them. On the fifth morning Godfrey said,
"We must turn south now, Luka, our bread won't last more than two days
at the outside, and we must lay in a fresh supply. We have kept as near
west as we could, and we know by the mountains that we cannot be far
wrong, still it may take us some time to find a village." To Godfrey's
satisfaction they arrived at the edge of the forest early in the
afternoon.
"We cannot be very far from Nertchinsk," he said. "We must be careful
here, for there are lots of mines in the neighbourhood."
After walking for another three or four hours several large buildings
were seen among the trees in the valley, and these it was certain
belonged to one or other of the mines. When it became dark they
descended still farther, and kept down until they came upon a road. This
they followed until about midnight they came upon a small village. They
found, as they had hoped, bread and other provisions upon several of the
window-sills, and thankfully stowing these away again struck off to the
hills.
"This is capital," Godfrey said, as after getting well into the forest
they lighted a fire, threw themselves down beside it, and made a hearty
meal. "If we could rely upon doing as well as this always I should not
mind how long our journey lasted. It is glorious to be out in these
woods after that close prison."
The Tartar nodded. The closeness of the air in the prison never troubled
him, but he was quite ready to agree to anything that Godfrey might say.
"Good in summer," he said, "but not very good in winter."
"No, I expect not; but we shall have to make the best of it, Luka, for
it is quite certain that we shall have to spend the winter out
somewhere."
"We will make skin coats and keep ourselves warm," Luka said
confidently. "Make a good hut."
"Yes, that part of the thing seems simple enough," Godfrey agreed; "the
difficulty will be in feeding ourselves. But we need not bother about
that now. Well, we had better go off to sleep, Luka; we have been
tramping fully eighteen hours, and I feel as tired as a dog."
In a few minutes they were fast asleep, but they were on their feet
again at daybreak and journeyed steadily for the next three days, always
keeping near the edge of the forest. On the fourth day they saw a small
farm-house lying not far from the edge of the wood.
"Here is the place that we have been looking for for the last week,"
Godfrey said. "This is where we must manage to get clothes. The question
is, how many men are there there? Not above two or three, I should say.
But anyhow we must risk it."
They waited until they saw lights in the cottage, and guessed that the
family had all returned from their work.
"Now then, Luka, come along. You must look fierce, you know, and try to
frighten them a bit. But mind, if they refuse and show fight we must go
away without hurting them."
Luka looked up in surprise. "Why that?" he asked. "You could beat that
pig Kobylin as if he were a child, why not beat them and make them
give?"
"Because I am not going to turn robber, Luka. I know some of the
runaways do turn robbers, and murder peasants and travellers. You know
some of the men in the prison boasted of what they had done, but that is
not our way. We are honest men though we have been shut up in prison. I
am willing to pay for what I want as long as I have money, after that we
shall see about it. If these people won't sell we shall find others that
will."
They went quietly up to the house, lifted the latch and walked in,
holding their long knives in their hands. Two men were seated at table,
three women and several children were near the fire. There was a general
exclamation of alarm as the two convicts entered.
"Do not fear," Godfrey said loudly; "we do not wish to rob anyone. We
are not bandits, we are ready to pay for what we require, but that we
must have."
The men were both convicts who had long since served out their time.
"What do you want?" one of them asked.
"We want clothes. You need not be afraid of selling them to us. If we
were captured to-morrow, which we don't mean to be, we will swear to you
that we will not say where we obtained them. We are ready to pay the
full value. Why should you not make an honest deal instead of forcing us
to take life?"
"We will sell them to you," one of the men said after speaking a few
words in a low tone to the other, and then rising to his feet.
"Sit down," Godfrey said sternly. "We want no tricks. Tell the women to
fetch in the clothes."
The man, seeing that Godfrey was determined, abandoned his intention of
seizing a club and making a fight for it, and told one of the women to
fetch some clothes down. She returned in a minute or two with a large
bundle.
"Pick out two suits, Luka, one for you and one for me." Luka was making
a careful choice when Godfrey said, "Don't pick out the best, Luka, I
don't want Sunday clothes, but just strong serviceable suits; they will
be none the worse for a patch or two. Now," he said to the men, "name a
fair price for those clothes and I will pay you."
The peasants had not in the slightest degree believed that the convicts
were going to pay them, and their faces lighted up. They hesitated as to
the price.
"Come, I will give you ten roubles. I am sure that is more than they are
worth to you now."
"Very well," the man said, "I am contented."
Godfrey placed a ten-rouble note upon the table. "Now," he said, "we
want a couple of hats." Two fairly good ones were brought down.
"Is there nothing else?" the man asked, ready enough to sell now that he
saw that he was to be paid fair prices.
"We want some meat and bread, ten pounds of each if you have got it."
"We have a pig we salted down the other day," the man said. "We have no
bread--we are going to bake to-morrow morning but you can have ten
pounds of flour."
"That will do. We want a small frying-pan, a kettle, and two tin mugs.
Have you got any tea in the house?"
"I have got about a pound."
"We will take it all. We can't bother ourselves about sugar, Luka, we
must do without that; every pound tells. We have brought plenty of
tobacco with us to last some time. Have you got a gun?" he asked the man
suddenly.
"Yes," he said, "we have got two. The wolves are troublesome sometimes
in winter. Fetch the guns, Elizabeth."
The guns were brought down. One was a double-barrel of German make, the
other a long single-barrel. "How much do you want for this?" he asked,
taking up the former.
"I don't use it much," the man said, "one will be enough for me, I will
take fifty roubles."
"No, no," Godfrey said. "You value your goods too high; money is not as
plentiful with me as all that. I can't go higher than twenty roubles,"
and he laid the gun down again.
"I will take thirty," the man said.
After a good deal of bargaining Godfrey obtained the gun, a flask of
powder, and a bag of bullets and shot for twenty-five roubles. Then he
paid for the other goods he had purchased. Luka made them into a bundle
and lifted them all on to his shoulder. Then saying good-bye to the
peasants they again started for the forest.
"We are set up now, Luka."
"Yes indeed," the Tartar replied. "We could journey anywhere now; we
want but two or three blankets and some furs and we could travel to
Moscow."
"Yes, if we had one more thing, Luka."
"What is that?"
"Passports."
"Yes, we should want those; but I daresay we could do without them."
They enjoyed their suppers greatly that night, frying some pork and then
some dough-cakes in the fat, and washing it down with numerous cups of
tea.
"The next thing will be for you to make a bow and arrows, Luka. I did
not buy the other gun for two reasons: in the first place because we
could not afford it, and in the second because you said you liked a bow
best."
Luka nodded. "I never shot with a gun," he said. "A bow is just as good,
and makes no noise."
"That is true enough, Luka. Well, I shall be a good deal more
comfortable when we leave those convict clothes behind us. Of course we
shall be just as liable to be seized and shut up as vagabonds when we
cannot produce papers as if we were in our convict suits, but there is
something disgusting in being dressed up in clothing that tells every
one you are a murderer or a robber, and to know there is that patch
between one's shoulders."
Luka was quite indifferent to any sentimental considerations. Still he
admitted that it was an advantage to get rid of the convict garb. In the
morning they put on the peasants' clothes. As Godfrey was about the same
size as the man whose garments he had got, the things fitted him fairly.
Luka's were a good deal too large for him, but as the Russian peasants'
clothes always fit them loosely, this mattered little. The other things
were divided into two bundles of equal weight.
Luka would willingly have carried the whole, pointing out that Godfrey
had the gun and ammunition, but the latter said:
"If you take the frying-pan and kettle and the two tin mugs that will
make matters even, Luka."
The two convict suits were left at the foot of the tree where they had
slept. Godfrey first thought of throwing them on to the fire, but
changed his mind, saying:
"Some poor beggar whose clothes are worn out may come upon them, and be
glad of them, some time during the summer; we may just as well let them
lie here. Now, Luka, we must walk in good earnest. We ought to be able
to make five-and-thirty miles a day over a tolerably level country, and
at that rate we shall be a long way off before winter."
The forests abounded with squirrels. Although Luka assured him that they
were excellent eating, Godfrey could not bring himself to shoot at the
pretty creatures. "It would be a waste of powder and shot, Luka," he
said. "We have plenty of meat to go on with at present, when it is gone
it will be time enough to begin to think of shooting game; besides,
there are numbers of mines about this country, and the sound of a gun
might bring out the Cossacks."