Chapter I: With the Robbers--The Prsjaka Caves (2)

"Here Baran," he said,--thrusting his foot against the culverin I mentioned before--"you claim to be a skilled bombardier. Let us see if you understand how to manage a thing like this. We stole it from Count Potocky's castle, and brought it here with great difficulty. Sixteen men would carry it two hundred steps, then other sixteen would relieve them, and so on. We didn't find out until we had got it up here that it would be of no use to us. The first time we tried to fire it off--it lay on the ground as now--four men sat astride of it, as on a horse, to steady it. I, myself, directed the shot toward the mouth of the cavern, and three men stood behind me to observe operations. When I applied the fuse, the infernal thing sprang into the air flinging the four men astride it to the roof of the cave; while the ball, instead of going where I had aimed--out of the entrance--imbedded itself in the wall over yonder, where it still sticks."

I laughed heartily at his amusing description of the gun's behavior; whereupon he said soberly:

"Oh, you may laugh, but it was no laughing matter I can tell you! I made a second attempt. I tied a rope around the rascal's neck to prevent him from kicking again, and fastened the ends securely to two stout pegs driven into the ground. 'There, sir,' I said, 'now kick if you want to!' I lighted the fuse--the demon didn't kick this time; instead he rushed backward dragging both pegs with him; broke the right leg of one of the men, the left of another, and both legs of the third; and the ball bored itself into the corner over there. Now let us see if you can do any better."

"Oh, you stupid bear!" I exclaimed, unable to restrain my mirth, "you may thank your stars that the rusty old gun didn't burst into flinders and kill every one of you!--as you deserved! The first thing to be done with the culverin is to clean and polish it until it shines like a mirror. Then--who ever heard of laying a cannon on the ground to fire it off?--it must have a sort of platform on wheels so it can be moved about."

The leader immediately gave orders to the smith and the wagon-maker of the band to obey my instructions and complete as quickly as possible the sort of gun-carriage I should describe to them, and I set about at once to clean and scour the old culverin which, with the accumulated rust of years, was no light task.

There was no time to lose, for the Tartars, with their Hungarian captives, having vacated Poland, the Polish magnates returned to their castles, and prepared to carry out the plans for punishing the insolent haidemaken, which had been interrupted by the war. Those members of the band who were sent on various errands into the regions adjacent to the Prsjaka Gorge, brought back, instead of booty, bloody heads, and the startling news that the roads leading to the Gorge were filled with armed troopers.

The two despoiled magnates had combined their forces, and were prepared for a regular siege of the plundering haidemaken.

The latter, however, merely laughed at the warlike preparations. They were not afraid of a siege! Nyedzviedz, on learning of the approach of the beleaguerers, instead of curtailing our rations, doubled them, mystifying all of us by the seemingly illimitable supplies in the provision chamber. We received, every day, double rations of fresh goats' meat and mutton, and yet there was not in any of the caves even the sign of a living animal.

Meanwhile the beleaguerers advanced steadily.

There was a stratagem the robbers had frequently resorted to in order to vanquish a beleaguering foe. They opened an underground sluice through which the water of the salt lake in the bottom of the abyss would rush into the defile and drown the enemy. But Prince Siniarsky's troopers had become familiar with this trick; and one morning, when we awoke, we found that a stone wall had been built across the gorge while we slept. An arched opening in the center of the base would give egress to all the water we might choose to let out of the lake.

This was bad enough, but worse came later.

The wall increased in height every night. I told Nyedzviedz at the beginning what would be the outcome of such a proceeding; when the top of the wall should have reached to the height of the wooden gutter which conveyed the brook into the cavern, Siniarsky's men would fling a line over it, attach a stout chain to the line, and when they had drawn it over the gutter it would be easy enough to pull it down.

"In that case we shall die of thirst," growled the leader, "for there isn't any other water in the cavern fit to drink. But a still greater danger, of which you know nothing, threatens us."

He did not tell me what it was, but he became so morose and ill-tempered, that no one but his daughter ventured to speak to him.

The haidemaken made several assaults on the wall, but the troopers returned the fire with such volleys from the numerous loop-holes in it, that our men were always forced to retreat.

All hopes were now centered in me, and on the culverin, which I had polished until it shone like gold. The carriage for it had been completed, and balls cast under my directions.

The wall grew higher and higher, until at last the top was on a level with our conduit. Its completion was celebrated in the enemy's camp by the blaring of trumpets, and beating of drums, and what I had foretold came to pass; the arquebusier mounted to the top of the wall, adjusted his arquebuse on its forked rest, and prepared to take aim at our water conduit.

"Now, watch me!" said I to Nyedzviedz, pointing the culverin's muzzle toward the cornice of the wall.

Two shots sounded simultaneously, and when the smoke had cleared away, there was neither arquebuse, nor arquebusier--nor yet the cornice of the wall, to be seen. All three had vanished.

I took aim a second time--this time at the base of the wall; and at the sixth shot, the entire structure of solid masonry tumbled down with a deafening crash, burying under it the musketeers who were at the loop-holes. Not one of them escaped alive.

The haidemaken, with loud cries of triumph, now hastily descended from the cavern in their baskets, and flung themselves on the enemy, and while the combat raged in the defile below me, I wheeled my culverin to the mouth of the cavern, and hurled shot after shot toward the troopers who were hurrying to the aid of their comrades.

The enemy was completely routed, and our men returned to the cavern richly laden with spoils.

So all-powerful is a cannon when its management is thoroughly understood.

"That will do for today;" at this point observed the prince. "The confession will be continued tomorrow."

THE VISZPA OGROD.

The next morning Hugo resumed his confession:

When the haidemaken, after having put to flight the troopers returned with their booty to the cavern, the leader said to me:

"Well, Baran, you certainly earned your name today, by proving yourself a most effective 'ram.' To your assaults with the culverin we owe our victory. Here is the treasure we took from the vanquished foe--take of it what you want, you have the first choice." Gold and silver galore lay before me, but I answered: "Thank you, Nyedzviedz, you know very well I have no use for money; instead, I want your daughter--for her alone I have served you; she is the reward I desire."

To this reply the leader shook his head irritably, and said: "I am disappointed in you, Baran. You are, after all, only a tender-hearted dove that wants to bill and coo. The man who has a wife is only half a man. The true haidemak embraces his sweetheart, then slays her--or better: slays her first. Why do you desire to marry? Be wise, lad, and remain a celibate. If you will think no more of Madus I will make you my second in command."

"But I can't, and won't think of anything but Madus," I returned, stubbornly; "and if you don't give her to me, you are not a man of your word."

"You don't know what you are asking, Baran," again said the leader. "If you persist in your demand you will compel me to send you the way all our members have gone who proved themselves to be soft-hearted doves. The man who wants to bill and coo cannot remain with us. If you marry Madus you must leave us."

I told him I would manage somehow to endure such a calamity, which made him laugh heartily.

"I know very well, Baran, my lad, that it would not grieve you to leave us, if you were allowed to depart with Madus to the outside world. But that may not be. The man we pronounce a 'dove,' must go a different route. The youth who refused to leap into the abyss the day you arrived, was a dove. You saw what became of him. A hundred and more love-lorn swains, and cowards have gone the same way. You will find in every crevice the skeletons of the unfortunates. Do you still desire to join the ghastly company?"

It did not sound very alluring--to celebrate one's nuptials among cadavers; but when I looked at Madus, who was standing by her father's side, the glance which met mine from her beaming eyes banished from my thoughts everything but her beautiful image, and I said:

"It matters not whither I go if my Madus goes with me--be the journey to hades itself!"

When Madus also declared she had no dread of undertaking the journey with me, her father summoned a priest--the same bearded rascal that had performed the ceremony of confirmation over me.

His vestments this time were even more magnificent--('acquired,' I have not the least doubt, from some wealthy cathedral by my respected father-in-law and his comrades) and with all manner of unintelligible mummery he performed the ceremony, which united me and my beloved Madus in the holy bonds of matrimony.

When the marriage ceremony was concluded, my wife and I each received from her father a costly, gold ornamented cap, and a richly embroidered mantle; a bag of provisions, and a jug of wine were also given to us. Then we were conducted to the same cleft in the wall of the cavern, in which the unfortunate Jurko had been entombed.

When the heavy rock had been removed from the opening the robbers, one after the other, shook hands with us. The leader was so deeply affected he embraced both of us. After a lighted taper had been placed in my hand, we were thrust into the narrow passage which was immediately closed behind us.

The noises in the cavern sounded like the low murmur one hears in a sea-shell held close to the ear. By the faint light from our taper I could see a smile of encouragement on my Madus' face, and obeyed without a question when she bade me follow her.

We had forced our way through the narrow passage, which was hardly wide enough for one person, a considerable distance, when we suddenly came to a small chamber about the size of a room in a pleasant cottage. Here, Madus said, we should have to rest and pass the night.

"Night?" I repeated. "We can easily bring the blackness of midnight upon us in this hole! We have only to extinguish the candle. But we shall never know when it is morning. Daylight never enters here. No cheerful cock-crow ever reaches this tomb. Here, no one will come to rouse us, and say: 'Rise, rise! morning, beauteous morning, is come.'"

"Fie, fie, Baran," chided my Madus. "Do you already regret the step you have taken? Should you be sorry never again to see daylight--now that you have me with you?"

"No, no," I answered, promptly, ashamed of my momentary regret. "No, no," and I set about preparing for our night's rest. We spread our bear skins on the floor of the cave, sat down on them, and ate our supper, becoming quite cheerful as the wine sped with pleasurable warmth through our veins.

Suddenly Madus turned toward me and asked:

"Where do you imagine we are, Baran?"

"In paradise," I made answer, kissing her.

Thereupon she roguishly blew out the light and asked again: "Can you see me?"

"No," I answered, for I could see nothing at all. "Look again, Baran, and repeat after me what I say."

I fixed my eyes where I believed her to be, and repeated after her, word for word, the Lord's Prayer, the _Ave Maria_ and the _Credo_, and as I did so, it seemed to me as if the dear child's countenance came into view, gradually growing brighter and brighter, until the gloom disappeared, and the subterranean grotto became irradiated as with the sunlight of noon. I did not tell her so, though, for women are so easily made vain; but from that moment I became convinced that Madus was my guardian angel.

Never, in all my life, have I been so happy as I was with my beloved Madus in that underground cave, and I should have been content to stop there with her until the end of time! I would not have inquired if ever a morning would dawn again for us, had not Madus roused me from a sound slumber, and lighted the taper.

"What do you imagine will become of us?" she asked, and I replied:

"I believe the haidemaken are playing a trick on us, and that they will fetch us away from here after a while."

"No, you are mistaken, Baran, we shall never again return to the cavern. The haidemaken do not expect to see us again."

"But, surely, Nyedzviedz will not allow his only daughter to perish miserably in this hole?" I exclaimed.

"Alas, you don't know him, my poor Baran," returned Madus sorrowfully. "My father's heart is impervious to pity. Those whom he banishes, as we have been banished, can never return to the cavern."

I now became alarmed in earnest. Until that moment I had entertained a suspicion that the haidemaken were only trying to frighten me.

I was cursing my folly--mentally of course--for having allowed the fascinations of a love-dream to lure me to so wretched a fate, when Madus rose from her bear skin couch, and bade me follow her. I remembered her radiant countenance of the preceding evening, and my confidence in her was restored.

We passed onward, through the narrow corridor which traversed numerous caves, larger and smaller than the one in which we had rested. I kept glancing furtively, right and left, expecting every moment to see the helpless skeletons with which Nyedzviedz had tried to intimidate me.

On, on we pressed, occasionally passing the entrance to a cave that was stored with all manner of plunder. At last I noticed that the corridor began to widen, and suddenly my soul was rejoiced to discover, far ahead, a faint gleam of light that became brighter and brighter as we approached. It was daylight!

"Hurrah!" I shouted aloud, in my ecstacy clasping Madus to my heart. "We are free! We are free!"

"Free? No, my Baran, far from it!" she returned gently and sadly. "We are approaching our life-prison. You will soon see it."

The passage was now wide enough for the two of us to walk side by side. We did not need the taper now, for we had sunlight from the strip of blue sky we could see overhead. I pressed eagerly forward to see more of it. I could have drunk in at one long breath the entire heaven.

At last we arrived at the end of the passage between the two tall walls of rock, and there below us lay the Viszpa Ogrod, which means: "Island Garden."

And it is a veritable island; only, instead of water, it is encompassed by rocks--rocks so high, and so steep, that nothing wingless can ever hope to escape over them into the world outside.

Heaven-towering walls of basalt, naked cliffs, sheer inaccessible, dome-shaped, and truncated, ranged one against the other in a compact mass like the facade of a vast cathedral, environ the Viszpa Ogrod, which, with its verdant fields, forest, fruit and vegetable gardens, lies like a gleaming emerald in a setting of rock, at the bottom of the deep crater.

From the dizzy heights of the cavern wall leaps a stream, that is transformed to iridescent spray before it reaches the valley, there to pursue its sinuous course amid the fields, gardens, and tiny white dwellings upon which we looked down as through a misty veil.

"That is our future home," whispered Madus. "Our life-prison from which there is no escape. To this island garden is banished all those haidemaken who prove too tender-hearted for their cruel trade, or tire of their adventurous life; also those who refuse to desert the women they love. Here, the banished dwell together and till the ground--they will never again see any other portion of the globe than this little valley."

The Viszpa Ogrod revealed the secret of the haidemaken's power to defy a siege. This island garden made it possible for them to defy all the troops sent against them, for it contained an inexhaustible supply of provisions. When the robbers discovered it, it was a wilderness of stunted fir trees. No living creature could exist in it, for there was no water until the brook, conducted into the cavern from the opposite side of the defile, found an outlet into it, thence, through the ground, into Prince Siniarsky's salt mines.

The water very soon wrought a wonderful change in the aspect of the valley. A portion of the stunted forest was cleared, and the ground planted with rye, vegetables, and various shrubs and plants which throve luxuriantly in this "garden" sheltered from the cold winds by the wall of rock. The firs left standing put forward new growth, and became stately trees--everything, even the human beings that came to dwell here, underwent a complete transformation.

True, those whom the haidemaken sent to the valley had already become tender-hearted, or, weary of the wild life of the robbers; but, no matter what the life of a man had been before he became a member of the little community in the island garden, there he would forget the entire world, become an entirely new being.

I speak from experience, for I, who have enjoyed a full share of this world's pleasures--everything that can rejoice the king in his palace, and the dreams of the prisoner in his dungeon--I never was truly happy until I went to dwell with my beloved Madus in the Viszpa Ogrod.

A narrow path winds from the outlet of the rock-corridor down into the valley. Madus, who was perfectly familiar with the path, led the way, recognizing, while still at a distance from them, each occupant of the little cottages. The children ran to meet us, and, on hearing from Madus who I was, seized our hands, and with shouts of joy drew us toward the village.

A bell was rung to announce our arrival. Later I learned from the inscription on this bell that it had formerly swung in the tower of Bicloviez monastery. Like everything else in the valley, it had been stolen. Everything, even the beautiful cloth and silk garments which clothed the women--nay the women themselves, were plunder.

Robber and robbed dwelt together amid plunder in harmony, happy as Adam and Eve in Eden. They ploughed, planted, and gathered the harvest in perfect contentment. They shared their abundance with the cavern, and received in return plunder from all parts of the world.

As I have said before, there were no animals in the Viszpa Ogrod when the robbers discovered it, and as it was impossible to convey full-grown cattle through the narrow passage from the cavern, calves, goats, and lambs instead were brought to the valley, which had become so well stocked with everything necessary to sustain a large army, that no potentate on earth could have reduced the haidemaken to starvation, no matter to what length the siege might have been extended.

The only danger which threatened the cavern was the stoppage of their water supply. Were that cut off, the luxuriance and fruitfulness of the valley would vanish, and it would become again an arid wilderness uninhabitable for man and beast. This was the danger dreaded by Nyedzviedz when the troopers began to build their wall in the defile.

The dwellers in the Viszpa Ogrod lived together like the family of Father Abraham in the promised land. The eldest of the men was the patriarch. He made all the laws; issued all the commands; allotted to each one his task and share of the harvest, giving to everyone as much as was required for the needs of himself and his household.

There was no priest in the valley. There was no Sabbath. The pleasant days were working-days; when it rained everybody rested.

There was no praying, no cursing, no quarreling. There, where every head of a household had once been a thief, no disputing about mine and thine was ever heard. There, every woman--and not one of them had been given an opportunity to vow fidelity to her mate before the altar, but had been forcibly conveyed to the valley--was so faithful, so modest, that no stranger could have told what was the color of her eyes.

When Madus and I arrived in the valley, Zoraw, the patriarch, prepared for us a feast, to which were invited the rest of the community to the number of eighty. After the feast, Zoraw conducted us to the brook, where we drank with everyone the pledge of fraternity from a wooden bottle of fresh water--that being the only beverage in the valley. At the conclusion of this ceremony, the bottle was broken in pieces, to symbolize unalterable alliance.

Then Zoraw measured off and assigned to us our plot of ground. The entire community lent a hand, and in two days our cottage was under roof, modestly furnished, and ready for occupancy. In the stable stood a cow and a goat for the housewife. When we were comfortably settled in our new home I was asked by the patriarch what manner of tools he should give me; and finding that I should be compelled to work--something I had never learned at school, or in the field--I chose the trade of smith, which would at least give me the handling of iron, without which I never felt contented.

I became accustomed in a very short time to my new mode of life. I would work at my trade the allotted time every day, then go home to my wife, who would tell me how the ducklings had got smothered in the shell, how the milk had turned sour, and such like prattle. And one day she whispered blushingly in my ear the secret which makes the husband's heart beat faster with joy and pride. In listening to it, I forgot everything else in the world. The thought that I was to become the father of a family, that would grow up to know no other home but this peaceful valley, filled my soul with joy and content. This thought became to me what roots are to a tree; it attached me so securely to my little plot of ground, that I felt as if no power on earth could tear me away from it. My beloved Madus, and our little home, became doubly dear to me. Had all the wealth, all the splendor that came to me later, been offered me then in exchange for my Madus and the humble little home she filled with her joyous presence, I should have refused with scorn.

THE KOLTUK-DENGENEGI.

I had become perfectly satisfied with my peaceful and uneventful existence. My entire world now lay within the rocky rim of the Viszpa Ogrod. My entire happiness lay in the beaming smile with which my Madus greeted my home-coming every day. My labors in the smithy were always over by noon; the afternoons were devoted to work required to be done at home.

One day I was siting in the hall-way of our cottage busily employed fashioning, from some crimson willow withes, a pretty basket-cradle, when a shadow suddenly shut out the sunlight from me. I looked up and was startled to see Nyedzviedz standing in the door-way.

"You here!" I exclaimed. "Have you, too, been relegated to the Viszpa Ogrod because of the softened heart? Or have you come here to hide from an enemy?--Which?"

"Neither, my good Baran," answered the leader. "I am not come to stop in this happy valley, but to fetch you away from it. We need you in the cavern. We cannot get on without you. We are planning a most important expedition, and need your assistance. A rich caravan is on the road to Mohilow; it is made up of Russian, Turkish and Jew traders, and is accompanied by a military escort. We propose to capture this caravan, and take possession of all the treasure and valuables, after which, we shall proceed to Berdiczov and loot the monastery. As the monastery is strongly fortified, and garrisoned, we shall have to batter down the walls; therefore we must take you with us, as you are the only one who understands how to handle our field gun. I shall appoint you second in command of the expedition."

Madus had come from the kitchen while her father was speaking. She was not in the least glad to see him; on the contrary, she greeted him with a frown, and demanded angrily:

"Why do you try to lure my gentle-hearted Baran away from me? He does not need your stolen treasure. He has all he wants here in his humble home. You buried us here--we are dead to you, therefore leave us here in peace."

To which Nyedzviedz made answer by saying: "Baran, does the father or the husband control the wife? If you, the husband, don't know how to control your wife, I, her father, will show you what to do with the woman who speaks when she is not spoken to."

I well knew what a hasty temper was the leader's, and persuaded Madus to come with me to the kitchen, where I gently argued away her opposition to my leaving home. I assured her it would be for our good; that when I had got together enough money to keep us in comfort I should return, and find a way to escape with her from the valley to some large city, where we should be safe from the haidemaken, and where she might sweep the dusty streets with a long-tailed silk gown, and be addressed as "gracious lady."

This had the desired effect. She wept bitterly; but she bade me go with her father. When I turned to cast a last look into the valley, before we entered the rock-corridor, I could see my poor little wife's red kerchief still gleaming in the doorway of our cottage. Her favorite dove had flown after me to the entrance of the corridor; there it settled down on my shoulder and began to coo into my ear. I had to fling it away from me quite forcibly in order to frighten it back to its mistress. My former comrades greeted me with loud cries of welcome, and celebrated my return by a tremendous drinking-bout.

When, after my long abstention from it, I again tasted wine, I forgot the Viszpa Ogrod and everything connected with it--as one will, when awake, forget even the most enchanting dreams.

It is a well-known fact that the wine-drinker who abstains for a long period from his favorite beverage, then yields again to the temptation, becomes a more inveterate drunkard than before he resisted the fascinations of the cup. The haidemaken drank only Tokay; they made a point of selecting from the cellars of the prelates, and magnates whom they plundered, only the best vintages.

The following night we set out for Mohilow, a twelve days' journey.

I am almost willing to wager that not a soul, in the region to which we were going, really believed such a band of robbers as the haidemaken was in existence--or, if it had ever been heard of, the tales of its marvelous exploits were looked upon as kindred to the fables repeated in the nursery.

As I said before, the band always traveled by night. During the day we rested, hidden in a dense forest, or in an uninhabited valley.

We never entered a village to procure food, but carried with us rations of dried meat, varying our diet with mushrooms collected on the way.

On learning definitely from the scouts we had sent to reconnoiter that the caravan was expected to reach Mohilow on a certain day, we concealed ourselves in a swampy thicket by the side of the road over which it would have to pass. Here we were forced to wait two days, during which our meat gave out, and we had to eat raw frogs and birds' eggs. The peasant carts passing along the road, with pretzels, smoked sausages, cheese, mead and wine for the market at Mohilow, were not molested by the hungry robbers, who would only have needed to stretch out their hands to secure the good things for which they languished. But the leader would not allow it.

"We are here to fight, not feast," he said.

Our patience was well nigh at an end, when, one day, the sound of a trumpet and drum announced the approach of the caravan.

On mules, on horses, camels, and ox-carts, came the fifteen-hundred-odd human souls, their escort, a valiant company of soldiers in coats of mail, and helmets, and armed with halberds, and muskets. It was a motly crowd, outnumbering our band in souls; but inferior to us in strength.

When, at a preconcerted signal, our men dashed from the thicket, the entire caravan fell into confusion. The soldiers fired off their muskets, heedless where they aimed; we, on the other hand, sent our shots where they would prove most effective.

A frightful tumult ensued--it was: save himself who can; while the heavily laden carts and vans were left behind.

I must admit that the haidemaken behaved atrociously. Never, in all my experience on the battlefield, did I witness such a scene of carnage. It made me ill; I became so faint with horror and disgust I sank unconscious to the ground.

When I came to my senses, I saw a Turkish merchant hobbling on a crutch toward me. He was old, and seemed to have been seriously wounded, for he was covered with blood. He came straight toward me, and, sinking to the ground by my side, said in a pleading tone: "My son, I beg you, take my yataghan, and cut off my head."

Your honors may believe that I was startled by so singular a request.

"I shan't do any such thing!" I replied promptly, and with decision.

"Pray do," he urged. "Cut off my head without further parley, and you shall have this koltuk-dengenegi," which is Turkish for "beggar's staff."

"No, Baba," I returned, with the same decision as before. "I can't cut off your head, for I have no grudge against you. I am not an assassin--though I do belong to the haidemaken; I was forced into this band, much as Pilate was thrust into the _credo_--against his will, I'll warrant!"

"Your countenance tells me, my son, that you are better than your comrades," said the old Turk. "For that reason I ventured to ask a favor of you. Come, hesitate no longer to perform the deed of mercy for which you shall be handsomely rewarded. Decapitate this old body; it will not be assassination; one can murder only a living being--so says the Koran, the only truthful book on earth--and I cannot strictly be called a living being. I have a deadly wound in the abdomen, and am bound to die sooner or later. Besides, I am prepared and desire to die. I can't flee any farther; and if I fall into the hands of your cruel comrades I shall be horribly tortured. Therefore, I beg you to release me from further suffering; cut off my head with this beautiful yataghan, which shall also be yours."

But, not even then could I bring myself to grant his prayer, and relieve him of his sufferings and his bald head.

"Leave me, Baba," I exclaimed impatiently. "If you want to get rid of your head, cut it off yourself with that beautiful yataghan; or else, hang yourself on one of those beautiful trees over yonder."

To this the old Turk responded with pious mien: "That I dare not do, my son. The Koran--the only truthful book on earth--says, there are seven hells: one underneath the other, and each one more terrible than the one above it. The first hell is for true believers, like myself; the second is for Christians; the seventh is for the Atheists. The fourth, Morhut, is for those persons who commit suicide. Were I to take my own life, I should have to descend to the fourth hell, where, as well as in every one of the three hells above it, I should be obliged to remain three-hundred and thirty-three years before I should be permitted to enter paradise. Whereas, if I should lose my life at the hands of an unbeliever like yourself, I should--so says the Koran, the only truthful book on earth--go straightway to paradise."

And still I hesitated; though it seemed but kindness to grant the old Turk's request, and send him speeding straightway into paradise. But, I remembered that our Bible (really the only truthful book on earth) says: "Thou shalt not kill;" and thrust the importunate old fellow away from me.

But he renewed his pleading with increased urgency: "See, my son, I will give you this koltuk-dengenegi--" "Of what use would that crutch be to me?" I interrupted.

"If you will screw off the top you will see that the crutch is filled with gold pieces," he replied; and to prove that he spoke the truth, he unscrewed the shoulder rest and shook several gold coins into the palm of his hand.

The yellow metal dazzled my eyes: "The crutch would hold a good many coins," I said to myself, to which added the Turk's pleading voice:

"You shall have it all, my son, if you will but grant my prayer."

And still I hesitated.

"I can't do it, Baba," I said. "Even if you gave me the crutch, I should not be allowed to keep the gold. No member of our band is allowed to keep for his own use alone any valuables that may come into his possession. Everything must be placed at once in the common treasury for the use of the entire band--and woe to the haidemak who would dare to keep for himself even a single Polish groschen! So, you see, Baba, your gold would be of no use to me."

"Listen to me, my son," again urged the wounded Turk, who was growing visibly weaker; "you are young; I can see that this wild life is not suited to you. If you had my gold, you could escape to Wallachia, buy an estate--a castle--serfs, and marry. Perhaps you already have a sweetheart--if so, why shouldn't you live in happiness with her, instead of skulking about in caves and swamps like a wild animal?"

This suggestion made me thoughtful. It brought back to my mind my dear good Madus. Ah! if only I might fly with her, far away, to some region where she might become a respected lady. If I had the Turk's gold! I could easily keep it secreted in the crutch. Some day, when the haidemaken were away on an expedition, I could easily stupefy the few members of the band remaining in the cavern by drugging their mead with Venice treacle; and when they were sound asleep I could fetch my Madus from the Viszpa Ogrod and with her escape to a far away land.

This thought impressed itself so deeply on my mind--it became so alluring that, unconsciously, my hand went out toward the beautiful yataghan.

"If I thought I could keep the gold hidden!" I said, unconscious that I had given voice to the thought.

"That will be easy enough; just leave it in the crutch," promptly responded the Turk. "When you join your comrades make believe to have taken cold in the swamp yonder, say that the muscles of your leg have contracted and made you lame. That will not only give you an excuse to use the crutch, but it will most likely get your discharge; a hobbling cripple is not a desirable comrade in a band of robbers."

Without waiting to see how I might take his suggestion, the Turk proceeded at once to show me how to bandage my left leg, so that it could not be straightened at the knee; how to keep my ankle against the crutch, and hobble along on the right leg. I thought of Madus, for whom I would have hobbled on one leg to Jerusalem, and let him show me how to transform myself to a cripple.

"Now, my son," he said, when he had delivered his instructions, "take my yataghan, my beautiful yataghan, and cut off my head--only don't hack it off as a butcher would with a cleaver. Swing the yataghan, thus, in a half-circle--easily, gracefully, as you would the bow of a violin. I will kneel here at your feet, bend forward, thus; then do you strike just here: between these two segments of the vertebrae. Be sure to keep firm hold on the handle to prevent the blade from slipping--"

He gave me so many directions, kept on talking so long that Satan, who is ever at one's elbow, gave my arm a sudden thrust, and, before I knew what had happened, a body minus a head lay at my feet, while a head minus a body was rolling down the hill--

"_Homicidium!_" dictated the chair to the notary. To this the prince appended:

"Under extenuating circumstances. We must not ignore the fact that the deed was committed at the urgent request of the decapitated--under approval of the Koran, and instigated, I might say, forced, to the act by the wicked one at the perpetrator's elbow."

"It was killing a human being, all the same!" said Hugo, "and I had cause soon afterward to repent most bitterly what I had done. After I had committed the bloody deed I set out to overtake my comrades. They had secured much valuable booty which they were carrying on their backs. When I came up with them, hobbling on one leg and leaning on my crutch, they broke into loud laughter:

"What the devil is the matter with you?" queried the leader.

"I am all used up!" I groaned. "I killed an old Turk, whose lame leg prevented him from running away with the rest of them; and before he gave up the ghost he cursed me and prayed that I might be compelled to hobble along on a crutch for the rest of my life. He had hardly got the words out of his throat before my leg became as you see it, and I can't straighten it."

"That comes of standing in the swamp--cold water will affect effeminate fellows like you in that way," observed Nyedzviedz. "But don't worry, we have among us one who understands how to cure such maladies. Ho, there! Przepiorka, come hither."

I was frightened, I can tell you! If my leg were examined it would be found to be in a sound and healthy condition. But there was no help for it--I could not escape an examination. So I drew up the calf of the leg so tightly against the lower part of the thigh that Przepiorka, after he had tried several times in vain to straighten it pronounced it permanently crippled.

On hearing this decision, I forgot my role and would have straightened the leg to convince myself that it could be done; but, what was my consternation and alarm to find that I was unable to do it. The affliction I had pretended had come upon me in earnest! God had punished me. I was a miserable cripple, unable to take a single step without the koltuk-dengenegi.

How I cursed him who had left it to me in legacy!