AN UNEXPECTED FRIEND.
STEPAN took from off a rude shelf along the wall a great round black
loaf, a plate of yellow salt butter, and some tin mugs big enough to
hold a pint each. He out several slices of bread and butter, laying
them down on a wooden platter. Then he poured out the tea and pulled a
bench up to the rude table in the middle of the room.
The boys gladly took their seats, for they were chilled and hungry; and
Bert was about to sip his tea when Alf touched his hand.
"Don't let's forget our grace," said he, and bending his head and
closing his eyes he said in a soft whisper: "We thank Thee, Lord, for
this food; take care of us, and of those we love, for Jesus' sake.
Amen."
The boys were seated together at one end of the table, while Red-scar
(who had now returned) and Stepan sat facing them; and Alf, glancing
up, now and again, from the food before him, could not but note the
contrast between these two men, whom he now rightly regarded as his
jailers. And he turned with a certain sense of relief from the brutal
aspect of Gavril to the brown-eyed, clear-skinned, black-bearded Stepan.
This man had been—as Alf knew from his father—a superior workman in
the fitters' department, receiving high wages and occupying a good
position. And Alf wondered to see him throw in his lot with a brute
like Gavril, and against such a master as Mr. Oliver had always been.
Just before the meal was ended Red-scar left the hut to get snow for
water, and Alf found courage to speak to Stepan of what lay like a
burden upon his heart.
"Look here, Stepan," he said, "I can speak to thee, for thou art not
as the other. Tell us what has become of our parents and old Niania?
Knowest thou?"
"On my honour, young sir, I know not," replied Stepan. "When Gavril
and I bore Anton away unconscious to his own house, we left the master
bound securely, but unhurt, lying on the sofa in the office. When we
returned in half an hour's time, he was gone. As for the key of the
safe, Anton found it, held it up for us to see, then suddenly fell,
and from that moment the key vanished. The lady and the nurse had also
disappeared before we went upstairs, though how or where I know no
more than you. I only am sure that it was before the rougher among the
workmen came swarming, as drunk as they could be, and turned everything
upside down."
"And what had my poor father done—tell me that, Stepan," said Alf,
"that you men should rise against him thus? What, for example, had he
done against thee?"
"Ah, young sir, you are scarce more than a child; how can you
understand? My grievance was nothing that the other men knew of or
shared in. But because they mutinied, I went with them—but for reasons
of my own."
"Tell us, Stepan, what was thy grievance?" asked Alf, and Bert echoed
his brother's words.
"Did you ever see my young brother, Pamphil?" questioned Stepan.
"Was he working in the zavot about a year ago?"
"He was," replied Stepan, "but he got into bad company, and was found
one night by the master dead drunk on the floor of the Refinery Room,
with a half-smoked pipe beside him."
"I suppose," said Alf, "that his duty was to keep watch there, and
above all to see that no risk was run of fire, which was the great
danger always. Also I have heard my father say that smoking is strictly
forbidden all over the factory."
"It is so," rejoined Stepan, "and Pamphil was much to blame;
nevertheless, he was very young, and had been led away by others more
vicious, though wiser, than he; but the master dismissed him at once.
I pleaded for him and he listened, but it was all in vain. Pamphil was
discharged. And then, in despair, he went from bad to worse, and now he
lies in prison for murderous assault and perhaps he may lose his life.
And knowing this, how can I forget that all this misery might have been
prevented had the master kept the poor lad in his employ, or at least
given him another chance!"
"But suppose," suggested Alf, "that some terrible accident had happened
through Pamphil being drunk or heedless; and suppose life and property
were lost on his account! Would not my father be blamed—and justly—for
keeping a man in his employ who was not to be trusted? Oh, Stepan, this
grudge of thine is an unjust and unworthy one."
"Our father was good to thee when thou wert ill of the fever," put in
Bert. "He went to see thee every day, and mother sent food from our own
table to strengthen thee. Hast thou forgotten?"
Stepan did not reply; it was all too true, though he did not like to
confess it.
But just then, Gavril came back with two great buckets of snow, which
he emptied into a huge kettle and set on the stove to boil, after which
he went out again for firewood.
"And now, young gentlemen," said Stepan, "if you will take my advice,
you will lie down on the bed in that warm corner, and get a few hours'
sleep. You must need it."
"Look here, Stepan," said Alf; "a straight word with thee! We dare not
sleep—my brother and I—if we be left alone with Red-scar, for he hates
us and might do us an injury. Promise that if we sleep, thou wilt not
leave us."
The man's brown eyes softened as he looked at the little lads, who, in
spite of all he had done, trusted him still.
"You may sleep in peace, my children; no harm shall come to you," he
said gently.
And as they went and lay down, he took from a nail in the wall his big
sheepskin coat, and carefully covered them. In a few minutes, he could
tell by their regular breathing that they were asleep.
"Ah!" said Gavril, who now returned with the firewood. "So thou hast
put the brats to bed. I would dearly love to choke the impudence out of
that older boy!"
And the cruel grin widened like a beast's at sight of prey, and the
cat-like eyes narrowed till they were only two gleaming slits. He
stepped across to the low bed and, stooping, pulled the collar of the
sheepskin shoob away from Alf's face and throat. Stepan was watching
him closely, distrust and dislike written large in his frowning brow
and set lips.
"Hands off, Gavril!" he said sternly. "I promised the children that
they should sleep secure, and they shall! Come away from them!"
"Thou soft-hearted old coddle!" sneered Red-scar, replacing the fur,
and taking his seat by the stove. "But now to business! How long are we
to keep these imps in hiding?"
"How can I tell? Thy purpose was to hold them to ransom; but, pray,
who is there to ransom them? The parents and nurse have disappeared;
thou dost not know of any reward offered. Much more likely is it that
the police will track us down, and give us a taste of Siberia for our
pains. Poor little fellows! They have come to trouble before their
time, and through no fault of their own."
"Nay, then, if thou art so soft-hearted," said Gavril mockingly, "it is
a pity thou art not on the manager's side rather than ours."
"Well, yes," replied Stepan coolly; "if 'our side' means to be with
thee, it would certainly be more to my credit if I went back to serve
under my old master."
"Thou double-faced traitor!" exclaimed Gavril with a threatening
gesture.
"I was a fool," said Stepan, "to let my own private grievance drive
me to join the rest of you—such a black gang, too, and thou, Gavril,
blackest of all!"
"Another word, and I brain thee with this axe!" cried Red-scar.