an. He knows that it does not do
to trifle with the rights of men, and he has no interest to retain us;
on the contrary. But to ask a favor of that gentleman does not quite
suit my taste."

"But that gentleman is not in the camp, or at least I have not seen him
here," observed Blount.

"He will come. He will not fail to do that. He must join the Emir.
Siberia is cut in two now, and very certainly Feofar's army is only
waiting for him to advance on Irkutsk."

"And once free, what shall we do?"

"Once free, we will continue our campaign, and follow the Tartars, until
the time comes when we can make our way into the Russian camp. We must
not give up the game. No, indeed; we have only just begun. You, friend,
have already had the honor of being wounded in the service of the Daily
Telegraph, whilst I--I have as yet suffered nothing in my cousin's
service. Well, well! Good," murmured Alcide Jolivet; "there he is
asleep. A few hours' sleep and a few cold water compresses are all that
are required to set an Englishman on his legs again. These fellows are
made of cast iron."

And whilst Harry Blount rested, Alcide watched near him, after having
drawn out his note book, which he loaded with notes, determined besides
to share them with his companion, for the greater satisfaction of the
readers of the Daily Telegraph. Events had united them one with the
other. They were no longer jealous of each other. So, then, the thing
that Michael Strogoff dreaded above everything was the most lively
desire of the two correspondents. Ivan Ogareff's arrival would evidently
be of use to them. Blount and Jolivet's interest was, therefore,
contrary to that of Michael. The latter well understood the situation,
and it was one reason, added to many others, which prevented him from
approaching his former traveling companions. He therefore managed so as
not to be seen by them.

Four days passed thus without the state of things being in anywise
altered. The prisoners heard no talk of the breaking up of the Tartar
camp. They were strictly guarded. It would have been impossible for them
to pass the cordon of foot and horse soldiers, which watched them night
and day. As to the food which was given them it was barely sufficient.
Twice in the twenty-four hours they were thrown a piece of the
intestines of goats grilled on the coals, or a few bits of that cheese
called "kroute," made of sour ewe's milk, and which, soaked in mare's
milk, forms the Kirgh