from his
Majesty the Czar!"

On the next morning at six o'clock, Michael Strogoff started off again.
Thanks to his extreme prudence this part of the journey was signalized
by no incident whatever. At Oubinsk he gave his horse a whole night's
rest, for he wished on the next day to accomplish the hundred versts
which lie between Oubinsk and Ikoulskoe without halting. He started
therefore at dawn; but unfortunately the Baraba proved more detestable
than ever.

In fact, between Oubinsk and Kamakore the very heavy rains of some
previous weeks were retained by this shallow depression as in a
water-tight bowl. There was, for a long distance, no break in the
succession of swamps, pools, and lakes. One of these lakes--large enough
to warrant its geographical nomenclature--Tchang, Chinese in name, had
to be coasted for more than twenty versts, and this with the greatest
difficulty. Hence certain delays occurred, which all the impatience of
Michael Strogoff could not avoid. He had been well advised in not taking
a carriage at Kamsk, for his horse passed places which would have been
impracticable for a conveyance on wheels.

In the evening, at nine o'clock, Michael Strogoff arrived at Ikoulskoe,
and halted there over night. In this remote village of the Baraba news
of the war was utterly wanting. From its situation, this part of the
province, lying in the fork formed by the two Tartar columns which had
bifurcated, one upon Omsk and the other upon Tomsk, had hitherto escaped
the horrors of the invasion.

But the natural obstacles were now about to disappear, for, if he
experienced no delay, Michael Strogoff should on the morrow be free of
the Baraba and arrive at Kolyvan. There he would be within eighty miles
of Tomsk. He would then be guided by circumstances, and very probably
he would decide to go around Tomsk, which, if the news were true, was
occupied by Feofar-Khan.

But if the small towns of Ikoulskoe and Karguinsk, which he passed on
the next day, were comparatively quiet, owing to their position in the
Baraba, was it not to be dreaded that, upon the right banks of the Obi,
Michael Strogoff would have much more to fear from man? It was probable.
However, should it become necessary, he would not hesitate to abandon
the beaten path to Irkutsk. To journey then across the steppe he would,
no doubt, run the risk of finding himself without supplies. There would
be, in fact, no longer a well-marked road. Still, there must be