these drunken brigands? If they were Turks or Swedes, all
right; but these sons of dogs--"

I interrupted him: "How much money have I in all?"

"You have plenty," said he with a satisfied air. "I knew how to whisk
it out of sight of the rogues." He drew from his pocket a long knitted
purse full of silver coin.

"Saveliitch, give me half of what you have there, and keep the rest for
yourself. I am off for the fortress of Belogorsk."

"Oh, Peter!" said the old serf, "do you not fear God? The roads are cut
off. Have pity on your parents; wait a little; our troops will come and
disperse the brigands, and then you can go to the four quarters of the
world."

"It is too late to reflect. I must go. Do not grieve, Saveliitch; I make
you a present of that money. Buy what you need. If I do not return in
three days--"

"My dear," said the old man, "I will go with you, were it on foot. If
you go, I must first lose my senses before I will stay crouching behind
stone walls."

There was never any use disputing with the old man. In half an hour
I was in the saddle, Saveliitch on an old, half-starved, limping
rosinante, which a citizen, not having fodder, had given for nothing to
the serf. We reached the city gates; the sentinels let us pass, and we
were finally out of Orenbourg. Night was falling. My road lay before the
town of Berd, the headquarters of Pougatcheff. This road was blocked up
and hidden by snow; but across the steppe were traces of horses, renewed
from day to day, apparently, and clearly visible. I was going at a
gallop, Saveliitch could scarcely keep up and shouted, "Not so fast! My
nag can not follow yours." Very soon we saw the lights of Berd. We were
approaching deep ravines, which served as natural fortifications to the
town. Saveliitch, without however being left behind, never ceased his
lamentations. I was in hopes of passing safely the enemy's place, when
I saw through the darkness five peasants armed with big
sticks--Pougatcheff's extreme outpost.

"_Qui vive_! Who goes there?"

Not knowing the watchword, I was for going on without answering. But one
of them seized my horse's bridle. I drew my sabre and struck the peasant
of the head. His cap saved his life; he staggered and fell; the others,
frightened, let me pass. The darkness, which was deepening, might
have saved me from further hindrance; when, looking back, I saw that
Saveliitch was not with me. What was I to do? The poor old man, with his
lam