helplessly on.

"A few minutes afterwards, Paul Somaloff knelt on the snow-covered
plain, the report of a dozen rifles rang out on the morning air, and the
exiles saw his arms raised as he clutched convulsively at his breast,
then he fell forward, dead!

[Illustration: "HE FELL FORWARD, DEAD."]

"The wild, despairing cries of the exiles were quelled with threats of
the knout, and then the prisoners were hurried on, as they had been for
so many days and weeks past. Ten days later a large number of Polish
insurrectionists, ill-armed, and accompanied by a throng of even worse
accoutred peasants carrying a red banner, flung themselves upon the line
of march, and made a futile effort to break through the soldiers who
guarded the exiles. The trained troopers of the Czar thrust them back
and, as they broke and fled into the forest, chased and cut them down
like sheep, till the snow turned to a crimson hue with their hearts'
blood.

"The exiles made desperate efforts to avail themselves of the
opportunity to escape which the confusion presented. Those who were
unbound fought with branches, which they tore from the stunted trees,
while the others madly thrust the shackles upon their wrists into the
faces of the brutal soldiery, who knouted or cut down men and women
indiscriminately. Long will that massacre be remembered, and the
dreadful sufferings which the survivors endured at the command of Ivan
Rachieff. When at last Tomsk was reached, only a handful of decrepit
exiles passed into the city out of all those who started on the long
journey."

"And Marie Lovetski?" I interrupted, "did she live to complete the
distance, or what was her fate?"

"It was reported that she was cut down during the massacre," the woman
replied, slowly; "for nothing has been heard of her since by General
Rachieff, although her body could not be found among the slain."

I glanced at the woman thoughtfully as she concluded her story, and
Denviers, who had listened in silence throughout, asked:--

"Where is Marie Lovetski? You are aware that she is alive--nay, more,
you know her place of concealment."

Surprised at the directness of the question, the woman involuntarily
rose, and then, seeing that we suspected the fugitive was hidden in the
log hut, she answered:--

"Marie Lovetski is not here, yet if the mujik has rightly judged your
courage, within a week he will see your sledge return with one more
occupant than when it started. Once she