But the brave girl had not lost her presence of mind. The animal, which had not at first seen her, was attacking the remaining horse. Nadia, leaving the shelter in which she had been crouching, had run to the carriage, taken one of Michael’s revolvers, and, advancing resolutely towards the bear, had fired close to it.
The animal, slightly wounded in the shoulder, turned on the girl, who rushed for protection behind the tarantass, but then, seeing that the horse was attempting to break its traces, and knowing that if it did so, and the others were not recovered, their journey could not be continued, with the most perfect coolness she again approached the bear, and, as it raised its paws to strike her down, gave it the contents of the second barrel.
This was the report which Michael had just heard. In an instant he was on the spot. Another bound and he was between the bear and the girl. His arm made one movement upwards, and the enormous beast, ripped up by that terrible knife, fell to the ground a lifeless mass. He had executed in splendid style the famous blow of the Siberian hunters, who endeavor not to damage the precious fur of the bear, which fetches a high price.
“You are not wounded, sister?” said Michael, springing to the side of the young girl.
“No, brother,” replied Nadia.
At that moment the two journalists came up. Alcide seized the horse’s head, and, in an instant, his strong wrist mastered it. His companion and he had seen Michael’s rapid stroke. “Bravo!” cried Alcide; “for a simple merchant, Mr. Korpanoff, you handle the hunter’s knife in a most masterly fashion.”
“Most masterly, indeed,” added Blount.
“In Siberia,” replied Michael, “we are obliged to do a little of everything.”
Alcide regarded him attentively. Seen in the bright glare, his knife dripping with blood, his tall figure, his foot firm on the huge carcass, he was indeed worth looking at.
“A formidable fellow,” said Alcide to himself. Then advancing respectfully, he saluted the young girl.
Nadia bowed slightly.
Alcide turned towards his companion. “The sister worthy of the brother!” said he. “Now, were I a bear, I should not meddle with two so brave and so charming.”
Harry Blount, perfectly upright, stood, hat in hand, at some distance. His companion’s easy manners only increased his usual stiffness.
At that moment the iemschik, who had succeeded in recapturing his two horses, reappeared. He cast a regretful glance at the magnificent animal lying on the ground, loath to leave it to the birds of prey, and then proceeded once more to harness his team.
Michael acquainted him with the travelers’ situation, and his intention of loaning one of the horses.
“As you please,” replied the iemschik. “Only, you know, two carriages instead of one.”
“All right, my friend,” said Alcide, who understood the insinuation, “we will pay double.”
“Then gee up, my turtledoves!” cried the iemschik.
Nadia again took her place in the tarantass. Michael and his companions followed on foot.
It was three o’clock. The storm, now decreasing no longer, swept with terrific violence across the defile. The remainder of the ascent was rapidly performed.
When the first streaks of daybreak appeared the tarantass had reached the telga, which was still conscientiously imbedded as far as the center of the wheel. Such being the case, it can be easily understood how a sudden jerk would separate the front from the hinder part. One of the side horses of the tarantass was harnessed by means of cords to the remains of the telga, the reporters took their place on the seat of this singular equipage, and the two carriages started off at the same moment. They had now only to descend the Ural slopes, in doing which there was not the slightest difficulty.
Six hours afterwards the two vehicles, the tarantass preceding the telga, arrived at Yekaterinburg, nothing worthy of note having happened in the descent.
The first person the reporters perceived at the door of the post-house was their iemschik, who appeared to be waiting for them.
This worthy Russian had a fine open countenance, and he smilingly approached the travelers, and, holding out his hand, in a quiet tone he demanded the usual pourboire.
This very cool request roused Harry Blount’s ire to its highest pitch, and had not the iemschik prudently retreated, a straight-out blow of the fist, in true British boxing style, would have paid his claim of na vodkou.
Alcide Jolivet, at this burst of anger, laughed as he had never laughed before.
“But the poor devil is quite right!” he cried. “He is perfectly right, my dear fellow. It is not his fault if we did not know how to follow him!”
Then drawing several kopecks from his pocket:
“Here my friend,” said he, handing them to the iemschik; “take them. If you have not earned them, that is not your fault.”
This redoubled Mr. Blount’s irritation. He even began to speak of a lawsuit against the owner of the telga.
“A lawsuit in Russia, my dear fellow!” cried Alcide. “Things must indeed change should it ever be brought to a conclusion! Did you never hear the story of the wet-nurse who claimed payment of twelve months’ nursing of some poor little infant?”
“I never heard it,” replied Harry Blount.
“Then you do not know what that suckling had become by the time judgment was given in favor of the nurse?”
“What was he, pray?”
“Colonel of the Imperial Guard!”
At this reply all burst into a laugh.
Alcide, enchanted with his own joke, drew out his notebook, and in it wrote the following memorandum, destined to figure in a forthcoming French and Russian dictionary:
“Telga, a Russian carriage with four wheels, that is when it starts; with two wheels, when it arrives at its destination.”
XII
Provocation
Yekaterinburg,
