Chapter III: Preface (3)

The family of this man, whose name was Ibrahim, consisted of the widow of one of his sons, aged thirty-five, and a young child of seven or eight, called Mamet. The mother was as ill-natured as the old keeper, and more capricious. Kaskambo had much to suffer, but the caresses and friendship of little Mamet were in the time that followed a diversion, and even a real consolation in his misfortunes. This child conceived for him so great an affection, that the threats and ill treatment of his grandfather could not prevent him from coming and playing with the prisoner whenever he found an opportunity. He had given to the latter the name of “Kunakh,” which in the language of that country means a guest or a friend. He secretly shared with him what fruit he could obtain, and, during the forced abstinence which the major had been compelled to endure, little Mamet, touched with pity, skilfully took advantage of his relations’ momentary absence to bring him bread or potatoes cooked in the ashes.

Some months had elapsed since the sending of the letter, without any noteworthy event. During this interval, Ivan had been able to win the good will of the woman and the old man, or at least had succeeded in making himself necessary to them. He was versed in all the arts that can be employed in a commanding officer’s mess. He made “kisliya shchi” [13] to perfection, prepared pickled cucumbers, and had accustomed his hosts to the little comforts which he had introduced into their housekeeping.

To win greater confidence, he had placed himself with them on the footing of a buffoon, every day inventing some new jest to amuse them; Ibrahim especially loved to see him dance the Cossack dance. When any one of the villagers came to visit them, Ivan’s fetters were removed, and he was made to dance; which he always did with a good grace, each time adding some new absurd gambol. By behaving thus continually he had obtained for himself the freedom of the village, through which he was generally followed by a crowd of children attracted by his buffooneries; and, as he understood the Tartar language, he had soon learnt that of the country, which is a closely related dialect.

The major himself was often forced to sing Russian songs with his denshchik, and to play his guitar to amuse this fierce company. At first they had taken off the chains which fettered his right hand when this service was exacted from him; but, the woman having noticed that he would sometimes play, in spite of his fetters, for his own amusement, this favour was no longer allowed him, and the unfortunate musician more than once repented that he had let his talent become known. He did not know then that his guitar would one day assist him to regain his liberty.

To attain that longed-for liberty, the two prisoners formed a thousand plans, all very difficult to execute. At the time of their arrival in the village, the inhabitants used to send each night, by turns, a different man to augment the guard. Imperceptibly this precaution was relaxed. Often the sentinel did not come: the woman and the child slept in a neighbouring room, and old Ibrahim remained alone with them; but he kept the key of the chains carefully on his person, and woke up at the least sound. From day to day, the prisoner was treated more harshly. As the answer to his letters never came, the Tchetchens often visited his prison to insult him and threaten him with the most cruel treatment. They deprived him of his meals, and he had one day the vexation of seeing little Mamet pitilessly beaten for having brought him a few medlars.

One very remarkable circumstance in the painful position in which Kaskambo was placed, was the confidence which his persecutors had in him, and the respect with which he had inspired them. Whilst these barbarians subjected him to continual outrages, they would often come to consult him and to make him arbiter in their transactions and in their contests with one another. Amongst other disputes of which he was made the judge the following deserves mention on account of its peculiarity.

One of these men had entrusted a Russian note for five roubles to his friend, who was leaving for a neighbouring valley, asking him to deliver it to a certain person. The messenger lost his horse, which died on the way, and came to the conclusion that he had a right to keep the five roubles to repay him for the loss he had sustained. This reasoning, worthy of the Caucasus, was not at all relished by the owner of the money. On the traveller’s return, there was a great commotion in the village. These two men had gathered around them all their relations and friends, and the quarrel might have led to bloodshed if the old men of the band, after having vainly tried to pacify them, had not induced them to submit their case to the decision of the prisoner. The whole population of the village tumultuously took their way to him, the sooner to learn the issue of this farcical trial. Kaskambo was brought out of his prison and led on to the platform which constituted the roof of the house.

The greater number of the dwellings in the Caucasian valleys are partly hollowed out of the earth, and only rise three or four feet above the ground; the roof is horizontal, and is formed of a layer of beaten clay. The inhabitants, especially the women, come to rest on these terraces after sunset, and often pass the night there in the fine season.

When Kaskambo appeared on the roof there was a profound silence. It must doubtless have been extraordinary, to see, at this strange tribunal, furious litigants, armed with pistols and daggers, submitting their cause to a judge in chains, half dead with hunger and distress, who nevertheless passed judgement in the last resort, and whose decisions were always respected.

Despairing of making the accused listen to reason, the major made him come forward, and, in order to put the laughers at least on the side of justice, questioned him as follows. “If, instead of giving you five roubles to take to his creditor, your friend had only asked you to give him his greeting, your horse would be dead all the same, would it not?”

“Perhaps,” answered the defendant.

“And in that case,” continued the judge, “what would you have done with the greeting? Would you not have been obliged to keep it as payment and to be content with it? My sentence is, therefore, that you return the note, and that your friend gives you his greeting.”

When this decision was translated to the spectators, shouts of laughter proclaimed far and wide the wisdom of the new Solomon. The condemned man himself, after arguing for some time, was obliged to yield, and said, as he looked at the note: “I knew beforehand that I should lose if that dog of a Christian interfered.” This singular confidence shows the idea entertained by these people of European superiority, and the innate feeling for justice that exists among the fiercest of men.

Kaskambo had written three letters since his detention without receiving any answer: a year had passed. The wretched prisoner, without linen, and in want of all the comforts of life, found his health declining, and gave way to despair. Ivan himself had been ill for some time. The severe Ibrahim, to the major’s great surprise, had however freed the young man from his fetters during his sickness, and still left him at liberty. The major questioning him one day on this matter: “Master,” Ivan said to him, “I have been wanting for a long time to consult you about a plan which has come into my head. I think that I should do well to turn Mahometan.”

“You are certainly going mad!”

“No, I am not mad: this is the only way in which I can be useful to you. The priest has told me that if I were circumcised they could no longer keep me in chains; then I could do you service, procure you at least good food and linen, and at last, who knows? when I am free ... the God of the Russians is great! We shall see....”

“But God Himself will desert you, poor wretch, if you betray Him.”

Kaskambo, even while scolding his servant, could hardly refrain from laughing at his whimsical plan, but, when he went so far as to forbid it formally: “Master,” Ivan answered, “I can no longer obey you, and it would be useless for me to try to hide it from you; it is already done: I have been a Mahometan since the day when you thought I was ill and they took off my chains. I am called Hussein now. What is the harm? Can I not be a Christian again when I wish and when you are free! See, already! I no longer have chains, I can break yours on the first favourable opportunity, and I have a strong hope that it will present itself.”

As a matter of fact, they kept their word to him: he was no longer fettered, and from that time enjoyed greater freedom; but this very freedom was nearly fatal to him. The chief authors of the expedition against Kaskambo soon began to fear that the new Mussulman might desert. His long stay in their midst and his knowledge of their language put him in a position to know them all by name, and to give a description of them to the line if he returned there; which would have exposed them personally to the vengeance of the Russians; they highly disapproved of the priest’s misplaced zeal. On the other hand, the good Mussulmans, who had favoured him from the time of his conversion, noticed that, when he was saying his prayer on the roof of the house, according to custom, and as the mullah had expressly enjoined him, that he might gain the public good-will, he often, through habit and inadvertently, mixed up signs of the cross with the prostrations he made towards Mecca, to which it sometimes happened that he turned his back; this made them doubt the reality of his conversion.

A few months after his pretended apostasy he noticed a great change in his intercourse with the inhabitants, and could not mistake the manifest signs of their ill will. He was vainly seeking to discover its cause, when the young men with whom he chiefly associated came to propose that he should accompany them in an expedition which they intended to undertake. Their plan was to cross the Terek, to attack some merchants who would be going to Mozdok; Ivan agreed to their proposal without hesitation. He had long been desiring to procure himself arms; they promised him a share of the spoils. He thought that when they saw him return to his master’s side the people who suspected him of wishing to desert would no longer have the same reasons for distrusting him. However, the major having strongly opposed the plan, he seemed to be thinking of it no longer, when one morning Kaskambo, on awaking, saw the mat on which Ivan slept rolled up against the wall; he had gone during the night. His companions were to pass the Terek on the following night, and attack the merchants, of whose progress they knew from their spies.

The trustfulness of the Tchetchens ought to have aroused some suspicion in Ivan’s mind: it was not natural that men so wily and suspicious should admit a Russian, their prisoner, into an expedition directed against his compatriots. In fact it transpired from what followed that they had only asked him to accompany them with the intention of assassinating him. As his character of a new convert compelled them to use some caution, they had planned to keep him in sight during the march, and afterwards to rid themselves of him at the instant of attack, letting it be believed that he had been killed in the fight. Only a few members of the expedition were in the secret; but the event upset their calculations. At the moment when the band had laid their ambush to attack the merchants, they were themselves surprised by a regiment of Cossacks, who charged them so vigorously that they had great difficulty in recrossing the river. Their great peril made them forget the plot against Ivan, who followed them in their retreat.

As their disordered troop crossed the Terek, the waters of which are very rapid, a young Tchetchen’s horse broke down in the middle of the river and was immediately carried away by the waves. Ivan, who was following him, urged his horse into the current, at the risk of being carried off himself, and, seizing the young man just when he was disappearing beneath the water, succeeded in bringing him to the opposite shore. The Cossacks, who, favoured by the dawning day, recognized him by his uniform and “furazhka,”[14] aimed at him, shouting: “Deserter! catch the deserter!” His clothes were riddled with bullets. At last, after fighting desperately and firing all his cartridges, he returned to the village with the glory of having saved the life of one of his companions, and been of service to the whole troop.

If his conduct on this occasion did not win over to him the minds of all, it gained him at least one friend; the young man whom he had saved adopted him for his “kunakh” (a sacred title which the Caucasian mountaineers never violate), and swore to defend him against every one. But this intimacy was not sufficient to shelter him from the hatred of the principal inhabitants. The courage which he had just shown, and his attachment to his master, increased the fears with which he had inspired them. They could no longer regard him as a buffoon incapable of any enterprise, as they had done until then; and, when they considered the abortive expedition in which he had taken part, they wondered how Russian troops had happened to be at the right moment in a spot so far from their usual haunts, and suspected that he had had the means of warning them. Although this conjecture was without any real foundation, they watched him more closely. Old Ibrahim himself, fearing some plot for the escape of his prisoners, no longer allowed them to engage in continued conversation, and the honest denshchik was threatened, sometimes even beaten, when he tried to talk to his master.

In this situation, the two prisoners contrived a means of conversing without arousing their keeper’s suspicions. As they were in the habit of singing Russian songs together, the major would take his guitar when he had anything important to communicate to Ivan in Ibrahim’s presence, and sing while he questioned him: the latter answered in the same manner, and his master accompanied him with his guitar. As this arrangement was by no means a novelty, nobody ever noticed a trick which besides they took the precaution to practise only on rare occasions.

More than three months had passed since the unfortunate expedition which has been mentioned, when Ivan fancied that he noticed an unusual disturbance in the village. Some mules loaded with powder had arrived in the plain. The men were cleaning their arms and preparing their cartridges. He soon learnt that a great expedition was on foot. The whole nation was to unite to attack a neighbouring tribe who had put themselves under the protection of the Russians, and had allowed them to build a redoubt on their territory. It was a question of nothing less than exterminating the whole tribe, as well as the Russian battalion which was protecting the building of the fort.

A few days later, Ivan, leaving the hut one morning, found the village deserted. All the men able to bear arms had gone during the night. In the visit which he made to the village to seek news, he obtained fresh proofs of the evil intentions they had against him. The old men avoided talking to him. A little boy told him openly that his father wanted to kill him. Finally, when he was returning very thoughtfully to his master, he saw on the roof of a house a young woman who raised her veil, and, with an appearance of the greatest terror, made signs to him to escape, pointing out the road to Russia; it was the sister of the Tchetchen whom he had saved at the crossing of the Terek.

When he re-entered the house, he found the old man engaged in inspecting Kaskambo’s fetters. A newcomer was seated in the room: it was a man whom an intermittent fever had prevented from accompanying his comrades and who had been sent to Ibrahim to augment the prisoners’ guard till the inhabitants returned. Ivan noticed this precaution without evincing the least surprise. The absence of the men of the village presented a favourable opportunity for the execution of his plans; but the more active vigilance of their keeper, and above all the presence of the fever patient, made success very uncertain. However, his death would be inevitable if he awaited the return of the inhabitants; he foresaw that their expedition would be unsuccessful and that their rage would not spare him. No resource remained for him except either to desert his master or to deliver him immediately. The faithful servant would have died a thousand deaths rather than choose the former alternative.

Kaskambo, who was beginning to lose all hope, had fallen for some time into a kind of stupor, and maintained a profound silence. Ivan, more calm and cheerful than usual, surpassed himself in preparing the meal, and while he did it he sang Russian songs, which he interspersed with words of encouragement to his master.

“The time has come,” he said, adding to each sentence the meaningless refrain of a popular Russian song, “hey lully, hey lully, the time has come to end our misery or to perish. To-morrow, hey lully, we shall be on the way to a town, a pretty town, hey lully, which I will not name. Courage, master! don’t let yourself lose heart. The God of the Russians is great.”

Kaskambo, indifferent alike to life and death, not knowing his denshchik’s plan, contented himself with answering: “Do what you like, and be silent.” Towards evening the fever patient, whom they had entertained bountifully in order to detain him, and who, besides the good meal he had made, had amused himself for the rest of the day with eating “shashlyk,”[15] was seized with such a violent fit of fever, that he left the company and withdrew to his own home. They let him go without much difficulty, Ivan having entirely reassured the old man by his gaiety. The more to remove any kind of suspicion, he retired early to the back of the room and lay down on a bench against the wall, until Ibrahim should fall asleep; but the latter had resolved to stay awake all night. Instead of lying down on the mat by the fire, as he generally did, he sat down on a log opposite his prisoner, and sent away his daughter-in-law, who withdrew to the next room, where her child was, and shut the door after her.

From the dark corner where he had settled himself, Ivan looked attentively at the scene before him. In the light of the fire which flared up from time to time, an axe glittered in a recess of the wall. The old man, overcome by drowsiness, let his head fall at times on his breast. Ivan saw that the time had come, and stood up. The suspicious gaoler noticed it immediately. “What are you doing there?” he asked sharply. Ivan, instead of replying, drew near the fire, yawning like a man waking from a deep sleep. Ibrahim, who himself felt his eyelids growing heavy, ordered Kaskambo to play the guitar to keep him awake. The latter refused, but Ivan handed him the instrument, at the same time making the sign arranged. “Play, master,” he said, “I have something to say to you.” Kaskambo tuned the instrument, and, beginning to sing, they commenced the terrible duet which follows.

KASKAMBO.

“Hey lully, hey lully, what have you to say? Be careful. (At each question, and each answer, they sang together verses of the Russian song following:)

“I am anxious, I am sad,
What to do I cannot tell,
Him I wait whom I love well,
Lonely watch I for my lad.
Hey lully, hey lully,
’Tis sad without my dearie.”

IVAN.

“See that axe,--don’t look at it. Hey lully, hey lully, I’ll split this rascal’s head.

“Here I sit and spin apart,
Breaks the thread my hand within:
Ah! to-morrow I will spin,
Now I am too sad at heart.
Hey lully, hey lully,
Oh, where can be my dearie?”

KASKAMBO.

“A useless slaughter! hey lully, how could I fly with my fetters?

“As a calf its mother’s side,
As a shepherd seeks his flocks,
As a kid, beneath the rocks,
Seeks the grass in sweet spring-tide,
Hey lully, hey lully,
So seek I for my dearie.”

IVAN.

“The key of the fetters will be in the brigand’s pocket.

“When I hie at break of day,
With my pitcher, to the well,--
How it is I cannot tell!--
Still my feet seek out the way,
Hey lully, hey lully,
That leads me to my dearie.”

KASKAMBO.

“The woman will give the alarm, hey lully.

“Waiting, ah! what grief I prove,
He, ingrate, elsewhere is gay,
Maybe false he doth me play,
Happy with another love.
Hey lully, hey lully,
Can I have lost my dearie?”

IVAN.

“It will happen as it may: will you not die all the same, hey lully, of misery and starvation?

“Ah, if false he be indeed,
If he pass me by some day,
Let the village burn away,
And on me the fierce flames feed!
Hey lully, hey lully,
Why live without my dearie?”

The old man becoming attentive, they redoubled the hey lully, accompanied by a noisy arpeggio: “Play, master,” continued the denshchik, “play the Cossack dance; I am going to dance round the room so as to get near the axe; play boldly.”

KASKAMBO.

“Well, be it so; this hell will be ended.”

He turned away his head and began with all his might to play the required dance.

Ivan began the steps and grotesque attitudes of the Cossack dance, which the old man especially liked, leaping and gambolling, and uttering cries to distract his attention. When Kaskambo felt that the dancer was near the axe, his heart throbbed with anxiety: this means of their deliverance was in a little cupboard without a door, contrived within the wall, but at a height to which Ivan could hardly reach. To have it within his reach, he took advantage of a favourable moment, seized it suddenly and at once placed it on the ground in the shadow cast by Ibrahim’s body. When the latter looked at him, he was far from the place, and continuing his dance. This dangerous scene had lasted for some time, and Kaskambo, weary of playing, began to think that his denshchik’s courage was failing, or that he did not think it a favourable opportunity. He glanced at him at the instant when, having seized the axe, the intrepid dancer was steadily advancing to strike the brigand with it. The emotion felt by the major was so strong, that he stopped playing, and let his guitar fall on his knees. At the same moment, the old man had stooped, and made a step forward to push some brushwood into the fire: some dry leaves burst into flame, and cast a bright glow into the room. Ibrahim turned round to sit down.

If, at this juncture, Ivan had pursued his enterprise, a hand-to-hand fight would have been inevitable: the alarm would have been given, which above all it was needful to avoid; but his presence of mind saved him. When he noticed the major’s confusion, and saw Ibrahim rise, he placed the axe behind the very log which served as a seat to the latter, and recommenced his dance. “Play, confound it!” he said to his master; “what are you thinking of?” The major, realizing how unwise he had been, began to play again softly. The old gaoler had no suspicion, and sat down again; but he ordered them to finish the music and lie down. Ivan, quietly going and taking the guitar-case, came and placed it on the hearth; but, instead of taking the instrument which his master held out to him, he suddenly snatched the axe from behind Ibrahim, and dealt him such a frightful blow on the head, that the unhappy man did not even utter a sigh, but fell stark dead, his face in the fire; his long grey beard began to blaze; Ivan pulled him out by the feet and covered him with a mat.

They were listening, to find out if the woman had been awakened, when, surprised no doubt at the silence which reigned after so much noise, she opened the door of her room: “What are you doing in here?” she said, advancing towards the prisoners; “how is it that there is a smell of burnt feathers?” The fire had just been scattered and gave hardly any light. Ivan raised the axe to strike her; she had time to turn her head, and received the blow on her breast, uttering a frightful sigh; another blow, swifter than lightning, caught her as she fell, and stretched her dead at Kaskambo’s feet. Terrified by this second murder, which he had not expected, the major, seeing Ivan advance towards the child’s room, placed himself in the way to stop him. “Where are you going, wretched man?” he said; “would you be so barbarous as to sacrifice the child too, who has shown me such friendship? If you set me free at this price, neither your attachment nor your services shall save you when we reach the line.”

“At the line,” answered Ivan, “you can do as you like; but here we must make an end.”

Kaskambo, collecting all his strength, collared him as he attempted to force his passage. “Wretch,” he said, “if you dare to attempt his life, if you touch a single hair of his head, I swear here before God that I will give myself up into the hands of the Tchetchens, and your barbarity will be in vain.”

“Into the hands of the Tchetchens!” repeated the denshchik, raising his bloody axe above his master’s head; “they shall never recapture you alive; I will slay them, you and myself, before that happens. This child might ruin us by giving the alarm; in your present state, women would be enough to put you back in prison.”

“Stop! stop!” cried Kaskambo, from whose hands Ivan was trying to free himself. “Stop! monster, you shall murder me before committing this crime!”

But, impeded by his chains and weak as he was, he could not restrain the ferocious young man, who thrust him back, so that he fell violently to the ground, ready to faint from bewilderment and horror. While, all stained with the blood of the first victims, he was attempting to rise, “Ivan,” he cried, “I implore you, do not kill him! In the name of God, do not spill the blood of that innocent creature!”

He ran to the help of the child as soon as he had the strength; but when he reached the door of the room he knocked in the darkness against Ivan coming out.

“All is over, master; let us lose no time, and don’t make a noise. Don’t make a noise, I tell you,” he answered to his master’s despairing reproaches: “what’s done is done; it is impossible to draw back now. Until we are free, every man I meet is dead, or else he must kill me; and if any one comes in here before our departure, I don’t care whether it is a man, a woman, or a child, a friend or an enemy, I lay him there with the others.”

He lighted a splinter of larch and began to rummage in the brigand’s cartridge-box and pockets; the key of the fetters was not there: he sought for it as vainly in the woman’s clothes, in a chest, and wherever he fancied it could be hidden. Whilst he made this search, the major gave himself up without restraint to his grief. Ivan comforted him in his own way. “You would do better,” he said, “to weep for the key of the fetters which is lost. Why should you regret this race of brigands, who have tortured you for more than fifteen months? They wanted to put us to death, well! their turn has come before ours. Is it _my_ fault? May hell swallow them all!”

However, as the key of the fetters was not to be found, so many slaughters would be in vain if they could not manage to break them. Ivan, with the corner of the axe, succeeded in loosening the ring on the hand, but that which fastened the chain to the feet resisted all his efforts; he was afraid of hurting his master, and dared not use all his strength. On the other hand, the night was advancing, and the danger became urgent; they decided to go. Ivan fastened the chain firmly to the major’s belt, so that it impeded him as little as possible, and made no noise. He placed in a wallet a quarter of mutton, the remains of the evening meal, added to it some other provisions, and armed himself with the dead man’s pistol and dagger. Kaskambo took possession of his “burka”;[16] they went out in silence, and, going round the house to avoid meeting any one, they took the path into the mountains, instead of going towards Mozdok and the ordinary road, easily foreseeing that they would be pursued in that direction. For the rest of the night they tramped along the mountains that lay on their right, and when day began to dawn they entered a beech wood which crowned the whole mountain, and sheltered them from the danger of being seen from a distance.

It was in the month of February; the ground, on these heights, and especially in the forest, was still covered with a hard snow which supported the travellers’ steps during the night and part of the morning; but towards midday, when it had been softened by the sun, they sank at every instant, which made their progress very slow. Thus they reached laboriously the side of a deep valley which they had to cross, in the depths of which the snow had disappeared; a beaten path followed the windings of the stream, and proclaimed that the place was frequented. On this account, and because of the fatigue which overwhelmed the major, the travellers decided to remain in that spot to wait for the night; they settled down between some isolated rocks which projected from the snow. Ivan cut down some pine-branches to make from them, on the snow, a thick bed, on which the major slept. While he rested, Ivan tried to find out where they were. The valley at the summit of which they were was surrounded by lofty mountains between which no outlet was visible: he saw that it was impossible to avoid the beaten track, and that they must of necessity follow the course of the stream in order to get out of the labyrinth. It was about eleven o’clock at night, and the snow was beginning to harden again, when they descended into the valley. But before beginning their journey they set fire to their shelter, as much to warm themselves as to prepare a little meal of shashlyk, of which they were in great need. A handful of snow was their drink, and a mouthful of brandy finished the feast. They crossed the valley, luckily without seeing anyone, and entered the pass where the path and the stream were confined between steep perpendicular mountains. They walked with all possible speed, knowing well the danger they ran of being met in this narrow passage, out of which they only emerged towards nine o’clock in the morning.

It was then only that the dark pass suddenly opened out, and that they saw, beyond the lower mountains which intersected in front of them, the immense horizon of Russia, like a distant sea. It would be difficult to form an idea of the joy felt by the major at this unexpected sight. “Russia! Russia!” was the only word he could pronounce. The travellers sat down to rest and to enjoy beforehand their approaching freedom. This anticipation of happiness was mingled in the major’s mind with the memory of the horrible catastrophe which he had just witnessed, and which his fetters and blood-stained clothes recalled to him vividly. With eyes fixed on the distant goal of his labours, he calculated the difficulties of the journey. The sight of the long and dangerous road which remained for him to travel with fettered feet and legs swollen with fatigue, soon obliterated even the trace of the momentary pleasure which the sight of his native land had given him. To the torments of imagination was added a burning thirst. Ivan went down to the stream which flowed some way off to bring some water to his master; he found there a bridge made of two trees and saw far off a dwelling. It was a kind of chalet, a summer house of the Tchetchens which happened to be empty. In the plight of the fugitives, this isolated house was a precious discovery. Ivan came to tear his master away from his reflections, in order to lead him into the refuge which he had just discovered, and after having settled him there he at once began to look for the store.

The inhabitants of the Caucasus, who, for the most part, are half nomads and often exposed to attacks from their neighbours, always have near their houses caves, in which they hide their provisions and goods. These stores, formed like narrow wells, are closed with a plank or large stone carefully covered with earth, and are always placed in spots where turf is wanting, for fear the colour of the grass should betray the deposit. In spite of these precautions, the Russian soldiers often discover them; they strike the earth with the ramrods of their guns in the beaten paths which are near dwellings, and the sound indicates the hollows which they seek. Ivan found one under a shed adjoining the house, in which he discovered earthenware pots, some ears of maize, a piece of rock-salt and several household utensils. He ran to fetch water for cooking purposes; the quarter of mutton and some potatoes which he had brought were placed on the fire. While the soup was preparing, Kaskambo roasted the ears of maize: finally, some hazelnuts also found in the store completed the meal. When he had finished, Ivan, with more time and means, succeeded in freeing his master from his chains; and the latter, calmer, and revived by a meal excellent under the circumstances, slept soundly, and it was deep night when he awoke. In spite of this favourable rest, when he wanted to continue his journey, his swollen legs were so stiff that he could not make the least movement without suffering unbearable pain. However, he had to go. Leaning on his servant, he set out mournfully, convinced that he would never reach the longed-for goal. The motion and the heat of walking appeased little by little the pain he was suffering. He walked all night, often stopping, and then immediately recommencing his march. Sometimes also, giving way to discouragement, he threw himself on the ground, and urged Ivan to leave him to his evil fate. His dauntless companion not only encouraged him by his talk and example, but almost used violence to raise and drag him along with him. They found in their journey a difficult and dangerous pass, which they could not avoid. To wait for day would have caused an irreparable loss of time; they decided to cross it at the risk of being dashed to pieces, but, before allowing his master to enter upon it, Ivan wished to reconnoitre and go over it alone. While he descended, Kaskambo stayed on the brink of the rock in a state of anxiety difficult to describe. The night was dark; he heard beneath his feet the dull murmur of a rapid stream which flowed through the valley; the sound of the stones loosened from the mountain under his companion’s tread, and falling into the water, made him aware of the immense depth of the precipice on the edge of which he had stopped. In this moment of anguish, which might perhaps be the last of his life, the memory of his mother returned to his mind; she had tenderly blessed him on his departure from the line; this thought restored his courage. A secret presentiment gave him the hope of seeing her again. “O God!” he cried, “grant that her blessing may not be in vain!” As he was ending this short but fervent prayer, Ivan reappeared. The pass when surveyed was not so difficult as they had thought at first. After climbing down several fathoms between the rocks, it was necessary, in order to reach the practicable side, to walk along a narrow sloping ledge of rock, covered with slippery snow, beneath which was a sheer precipice. Ivan with his axe cut in the snow holes which made the passage easier: they crossed themselves. “Come then,” said Kaskambo, “if I perish, at least let it not be for want of courage; it was only illness that took that from me. I will go on now as long as God gives me strength.” They emerged successfully from the dangerous pass and continued their journey. The paths began to be more continuous and well-beaten, and they no longer found any snow except in places looking north, and on low-lying ground where it had accumulated. They had the good fortune to meet nobody until daybreak, when the sight of two men appearing in the distance obliged them to lie down on the ground so that they might not be seen.

When the mountains are left behind in these provinces, woods are no longer to be found; the ground there is absolutely bare, and a single tree would be vainly sought, except on the banks of the large rivers, where still they are very scarce, a most extraordinary thing, considering the fertility of the soil. They had for some time been following the course of the Sudja, which they had to cross to reach Mozdok, seeking a place where the water, less rapid, would offer a safer passage, when they saw a man on horseback coming straight towards them. The country, completely open, offered neither trees nor bushes as a means of hiding. They lay flat down under the bank of the Sudja, on the edge of the water. The traveller passed within a few fathoms of their lair. They intended only to defend themselves if they were attacked. Ivan drew his dagger and gave the pistol to the major. Seeing then that the rider was only a child of twelve or thirteen, he hurled himself suddenly upon him, collared him, and threw him down on the grass. The youth would have resisted, but, seeing the major appear on the river-bank, pistol in hand, he fled at full speed. The horse had no saddle, and a halter passed through its mouth by way of bridle. The two fugitives at once made use of their capture to cross the river. This encounter was very fortunate for them, for they soon saw that it would have been impossible for them to pass it on foot, as they had purposed. Their mount, although burdened with the weight of two men, was almost carried away by the swiftness of the water. However, they arrived safe and sound at the opposite shore, which unfortunately was too steep for the horse to be able to land. They got off to lighten it. As Ivan pulled with all his might to enable it to mount upon the shore, the halter came unfastened and remained in his hands. The animal, swept away by the current, after many efforts to land, was swallowed up in the river, and drowned.

Deprived of this resource, but from this time less troubled as to the danger of pursuit, they made for a hillock, covered with loose rocks, which they saw in the distance, intending to hide themselves and rest there until night. From their reckoning of the distance they had already travelled, they judged that the dwellings of the peaceful Tchetchens ought not to be very far away; but nothing could be more unsafe than to give themselves up to these men, whose probable treachery might be their undoing.

However, considering the weak state of Kaskambo, it would be very difficult for him to reach the Terek unaided. Their provisions were exhausted: they passed the rest of the day in gloomy silence, not daring to reveal their anxieties to each other. Towards evening, the major saw his denshchik strike his brow with his fist, uttering a deep sigh. Astonished at this sudden despair, which his dauntless companion had in no way evinced until then, he asked him the reason of it.

“Master,” said Ivan, “I have done something very wrong!”

“May God forgive us it!” answered Kaskambo, crossing himself.

“Yes,” continued Ivan, “I have forgotten to bring away that fine carbine which was in the child’s room. What could you expect? It never entered my mind: you were groaning so up there, and making such a noise, that I forgot it. You’re laughing, are you? It was the best carbine there was in the whole village. I would have made a present of it to the first man we met, to put him on our side: for I don’t know how, in the state I see you are in, we can finish our march.”

The weather, which till then had favoured them, changed during the day. The cold Russian wind blew violently, and drove sleet in their faces. They set out at nightfall, uncertain whether they should try to reach some villages, or to avoid them. But the long stage which remained for them to travel, supposing the latter, became absolutely impossible for them owing to a fresh misfortune which befell them towards the end of the night. As they were crossing a little ravine, over the remains of snow which covered its bottom, the ice broke under their feet, and they were plunged in water up to the knees. Kaskambo’s efforts to extricate himself made his garments wetter than ever. Since the time when they set out, the cold had never been so keen; the whole country-side was white with sleet. After walking for a quarter of an hour, seized by the cold, he fell, through weariness and pain, and absolutely refused to go any farther. Seeing the impossibility of reaching the goal of his journey, he considered it a useless barbarity to detain his companion, who could easily escape by himself.

“Listen, Ivan,” he said, “God is my witness that I have done all I could up till now to take advantage of the help you have given me, but you see that it can no longer save me, and that my fate is sealed. Go on to the line, my dear Ivan, return to our regiment; I command you. Say to my old friends and to my superior officers that you have left me here to feed the ravens, and that I wish them a better fate. But, before you go, recollect the oath which you made up yonder in the blood of our gaolers. You swore that the Tchetchens should not recapture me alive: keep your word.”

So saying, he lay down on the ground, and covered himself completely with his burka.

“There is one resource left,” Ivan answered; “it is to seek the dwelling of a Tchetchen and to win over its master with promises. If he betrays us, we shall at least have less with which to reproach ourselves. Try again to drag yourself so far; or else,” he added, seeing that his master kept silence, “I will go alone, and try to win over a Tchetchen; and, if it turns out well, I will return with him to fetch you; if badly, if I perish and do not come back, here, take the pistol.”

Kaskambo stretched out a hand from under the burka and took the pistol. Ivan covered him with dry grass and brushwood for fear he should be discovered by anyone during his excursion. As he prepared to go, his master called him back. “Ivan,” he said, “hear again my last request. If you recross the Terek, and if you see my mother again without me ...”

“Master,” Ivan interrupted, “good-bye for the present. If you perish, neither your mother nor mine will ever see me again.”

After an hour’s walk, he saw from a small eminence two villages three or four versts distant; that was not what he sought; he wanted to find an isolated house, which he could enter without being seen, to win over its master secretly. The distant smoke of a chimney discovered to him one such as he desired. He at once betook himself thither, and entered without hesitation. The master of the house was sitting on the ground, engaged in patching one of his boots.

“I have come,” said Ivan, “to give you the chance of earning two hundred roubles, and to ask a service of you. No doubt you have heard of Major Kaskambo, a prisoner among the mountaineers. Well, I have rescued him; he is here, a step off, ill and in your power. Should you please to give him up again to his enemies, they will praise you no doubt, but, you know well, they will not reward you. If on the contrary you consent to save him, by keeping him in your house for three days only, I will go to Mozdok, and will bring you two hundred roubles in hard cash for his ransom; while, if you dare to stir from your place,” (he added, drawing his dagger) “and to give the alarm to have me seized, I will kill you. Your word at once, or you are dead.”

Ivan’s assured tone convinced the Tchetchen without alarming him. “Young man,” he said, calmly putting on his boot, “I also have a dagger in my girdle, and yours does not terrify me. Had you entered my house as a friend, I would never have betrayed a man who had passed my threshold; but now I promise nothing. Sit down there, and say what you will.”

Ivan, seeing with whom he had to deal, sheathed his dagger again, sat down, and repeated his proposal.

“What security will you give me,” asked the Tchetchen, “for the fulfilment of your promise?”

“I will leave you the major himself,” Ivan answered; “do you think I would have suffered for fifteen months, and brought my master to you, to desert him?”

“That is all right, I believe you; but two hundred roubles is not enough: I must have four hundred.”

“Why not ask four thousand? it is easy enough; but I, who wish to keep my word, offer you two hundred, because I know where to get them, and not a copeck more. Do you want to make me deceive you?”

“Well, be it so; I agree to two hundred roubles; and you will return alone, and in three days?”

“Yes, alone, and in three days, I give you my word! But have you given me yours? is the major your guest?”

“He is my guest, and you as well, from this moment, you have my word for it.”

They shook hands and ran to fetch the major, whom they brought back half dead with cold and hunger.

Instead of going to Mozdok, Ivan, learning that he was nearer to Tchervelianskaya-Stanitsa, where there was a large body of Cossacks, went thither immediately. He had no difficulty in collecting the sum he needed. The good Cossacks, some of whom had been engaged in the unfortunate affair which had cost Kaskambo his liberty, clubbed together with alacrity to complete the ransom. On the day fixed, Ivan set out to go at last and set his master free, but the colonel who commanded the outpost, fearing some fresh treachery, did not allow him to return alone, and in spite of the agreement made with the Tchetchen he had him accompanied by some Cossacks.

This precaution again was nearly fatal to Kaskambo. From his first distant sight of the Cossack lances, his host thought himself betrayed, and, displaying at once the savage courage of his nation, he led the major, who was still ill, on to the roof of the house, bound him to a post, and placed himself opposite him, carbine in hand: “If you advance,” he shouted, when Ivan was within hearing, at the same time aiming at his prisoner, “if you make another step, I will blow out the major’s brains, and I have fifty cartridges for my enemies and the traitor who brings them.”

“You are not betrayed,” cried the denshchik, trembling for his master’s life; “they forced me to come back accompanied, but I have brought the two hundred roubles, and have kept my word.”

“Let the Cossacks withdraw,” added the Tchetchen, “or I will fire.”

Kaskambo himself begged the officer to retire. Ivan followed the detachment for some time and returned alone; but the suspicious brigand did not allow him to approach. He made him count out the roubles a hundred paces from the house, on the path, and ordered him to go away.

As soon as he had taken possession of them, he went back to the roof and threw himself down at the major’s feet, begging his pardon and imploring him to forget the ill treatment which, he said, he had been forced to make him suffer for his own safety. “I will only remember,” Kaskambo answered, “that I have been your guest and that you have kept your word to me; but, before asking my pardon, please begin by unfastening my bonds.” Instead of answering him, the Tchetchen, seeing Ivan returning, jumped from the roof and disappeared like lightning.

On the same day, honest Ivan had the pleasure and glory of restoring his master to the bosom of his friends, who had despaired of seeing him again.

The gleaner of this tale, a few months afterwards, at Yegorievski, passing, during the night, before a little house, handsome and very much lighted up, got out of his “kibitka,”[17] and approached a window to enjoy the sight of a very lively ball which was being given on the ground-floor. A young non-commissioned officer was also looking very attentively at what was going on inside the room.

“Who is giving the ball?” the traveller asked him.

“The major, who is being married.”

“What is the major’s name?”

“His name is Kaskambo.”

The traveller, knowing the strange story of that officer, congratulated himself on having yielded to his curiosity, and had pointed out to him the bridegroom, who, beaming with pleasure, forgot in that hour the Tchetchens and their cruelty.

“Show me, pray,” he again added, “the brave denshchik who delivered him.”

The non-commissioned officer, after hesitating for some time, answered, “It was myself.”

Doubly surprised at the encounter, and still more so at finding him so young, the traveller asked him his age. He had not yet completed his twentieth year, and had just received a gratuity, with the rank of a non-commissioned officer, as a reward for his courage and fidelity. This splendid fellow, after having voluntarily shared his master’s misfortunes, and restored him to life and liberty, was now rejoicing in his happiness, as he looked at his wedding-festivities through the window. But as the stranger expressed his surprise that he was not present at the merry making, taxing his former master with ingratitude on this score, Ivan gave him a black look, and re-entered the house whistling the tune of “Hey lully, hey lully.” He appeared soon afterwards in the ball-room, and the inquisitive stranger got into his kibitka again, very thankful to have escaped having his head split open with an axe.

FOOTNOTES:

[8] By this name is designated the succession of stations guarded by Russian troops between the Caspian Sea and the Black Sea, from the mouth of the Terek to that of the Kuban.

[9] Vladikavkaz comes from the Russian verb “vladeti,” which means “command, dominate.”

[10] Soldier-servant.

[11] He was called Ivan Smirnoff, a name which might be translated into French as “John the Gentile,” which contrasted strangely with his character, as we shall see by what follows.

[12] A familiar proverb of Russian soldiers in the moment of danger.

[13] A Russian drink; it is a kind of beer made with flour.

[14] A Russian word which corresponds to what is called in French “cap.”

[15] Mutton roasted in small pieces at the end of a stick.