The country had changed. This little village of Kamskiy lies, like an island, habitable and healthy, in the midst of the uninhabitable district. It is situated in the very center of the Baraba. The emigration caused by the Tartar invasion had not yet depopulated this little town of Kamskiy. Its inhabitants probably fancied themselves safe in the center of the Baraba, whence at least they thought they would have time to flee if they were directly menaced.
Michael Strogoff, although exceedingly anxious for news, could ascertain nothing at this place. It would have been rather to him that the Governor would have addressed himself had he known who the pretended merchant of Irkutsk really was. Kamskiy, in fact, by its very situation seemed to be outside the Siberian world and the grave events which troubled it.
Besides, Michael Strogoff showed himself little, if at all. To be unperceived was not now enough for him: he would have wished to be invisible. The experience of the past made him more and more circumspect in the present and the future. Therefore he secluded himself, and not caring to traverse the streets of the village, he would not even leave the inn at which he had halted.
Michael Strogoff could have found a carriage at Kamskiy, and replaced by a more convenient conveyance the horse which had borne him from Omsk. But, after mature reflection, he feared that the purchase of a tarantass would have attracted attention to him, and although he might well have passed through the line now occupied by the Tartars which divided Siberia, almost following the valley of the Irtysh, he would not risk the chance of awakening suspicion.
Moreover, for the difficult passage of the Baraba, for the flight across the marsh, in a case where some danger might threaten him too directly, to escape horsemen sent in pursuit, to throw himself if necessary even into the densest canebrake, a horse would no doubt be of more value than a carriage. Later on, beyond Tomsk, or even Krasnoyarsk, in some important center of Western Siberia, Michael Strogoff would see what it might be best to do.
As for his horse, he did not even think of exchanging him for another animal. He had become accustomed to this brave creature. He knew to what extent he could rely upon him. In buying him at Omsk he had been lucky, and in taking him to the postmaster the generous muzhik had rendered him a great service. Besides, if Michael Strogoff had already become attached to his horse, the horse himself seemed to become inured, by degrees, to the fatigue of such a journey, and provided that he got several hours of repose daily, his rider might hope that he would carry him beyond the invaded provinces.
So, during the evening and night of the 2nd of August, Michael Strogoff remained confined to his inn, at the entrance of the town; which was little frequented and out of the way of the importunate and curious.
Exhausted with fatigue, he went to bed after having seen that his horse lacked nothing; but his sleep was broken. What he had seen since his departure from Moscow showed him the importance of his mission. The rising was an extremely serious one, and the treachery of Ogareff made it still more formidable. And when his eyes fell upon the letter bearing upon it the authority of the imperial seal—the letter which, no doubt, contained the remedy for so many evils, the safety of all this war-ravaged country—Michael Strogoff felt within himself a fierce desire to dash on across the steppe, to accomplish the distance which separated him from Irkutsk as the crow would fly it, to be an eagle that he might overtop all obstacles, to be a hurricane that he might sweep through the air at a hundred versts an hour, and to be at last face to face with the Grand Duke, and to exclaim: “Your highness, from his Majesty the Czar!”
On the next morning at six o’clock, Michael Strogoff started off again, with the intention of making in that day the eighty versts which separated Kamskiy from the hamlet of Oubinsk. Beyond a radius of twenty versts he came again upon the swampy Baraba which in many places was without any appearance of dry land, the soil being often covered by a foot of water. The road was therefore found with difficulty, but thanks to his extreme prudence this part of the journey was signalized by no incident whatever.
Michael Strogoff having arrived at Oubinsk gave his horse a whole night’s rest, for he wished on the next day to accomplish the hundred versts which lie between Oubinsk and Ikoulskoe without halting. He started therefore at dawn; but unfortunately the soil of the Baraba in this neighborhood was proved more detestable than ever.
In fact, between Oubinsk and Kamakore the very heavy rains of some previous weeks were retained by this shallow depression as in a watertight bowl. There was, for a long distance, no break in the succession of swamps, pools, and lakes. One of these lakes—large enough to warrant its geographical nomenclature—Tchang, Chinese in name, had to be coasted for more than twenty versts, and this with the greatest difficulty. Hence certain delays occurred, which all the impatience of Michael Strogoff could not avoid. He had been well advised in not taking a carriage at Kamskiy, for his horse passed places which would have been impracticable for a conveyance on wheels.
In the evening, at nine o’clock, Michael Strogoff arrived at Ikoulskoe, and halted there over night. In this remote village of the Baraba news of the war was utterly wanting. From its situation, this part of the province, lying in the fork formed by the two Tartar columns which had bifurcated, one upon Omsk and the other upon Tomsk, had hitherto escaped the horrors of the invasion.
But the natural obstacles were
