olyvan?"

"No; for Kolyvan does not yet burn."

"Thanks, friend. Can I aid you and yours?"

"No."

"Good-by."

"Farewell."

And Michael, having presented five and twenty roubles to the unfortunate
woman, who had not even strength to thank him, put spurs to his horse
once more.

One thing he knew; he must not pass through Tomsk. To go to Kolyvan,
which the Tartars had not yet reached, was possible. Yes, that is what
he must do; there he must prepare himself for another long stage. There
was nothing for it but, having crossed the Obi, to take the Irkutsk road
and avoid Tomsk.

This new route decided on, Michael must not delay an instant. Nor
did he, but, putting his horse into a steady gallop, he took the road
towards the left bank of the Obi, which was still forty versts distant.
Would there be a ferry boat there, or should he, finding that the
Tartars had destroyed all the boats, be obliged to swim across?

As to his horse, it was by this time pretty well worn out, and Michael
intended to make it perform this stage only, and then to exchange it for
a fresh one at Kolyvan. Kolyvan would be like a fresh starting point,
for on leaving that town his journey would take a new form. So long as
he traversed a devastated country the difficulties must be very great;
but if, having avoided Tomsk, he could resume the road to Irkutsk across
the province of Yeniseisk, which was not yet laid waste, he would finish
his journey in a few days.

Night came on, bringing with it refreshing coolness after the heat of
the day. At midnight the steppe was profoundly dark. The sound of the
horses's hoofs alone was heard on the road, except when, every now and
then, its master spoke a few encouraging words. In such darkness as
this great care was necessary lest he should leave the road, bordered by
pools and streams, tributaries of the Obi. Michael therefore advanced
as quickly as was consistent with safety. He trusted no less to
the excellence of his eyes, which penetrated the gloom, than to the
well-proved sagacity of his horse.

Just as Michael dismounted to discover the exact direction of the road,
he heard a confused murmuring sound from the west. It was like the
noise of horses' hoofs at some distance on the parched ground. Michael
listened attentively, putting his ear to the ground.

"It is a detachment of cavalry coming by the road from Omsk," he said to
himself. "They are marching very quickly, for the noise is increasing