The Englishman thought of the readers of the Daily Telegraph, and the
Frenchman of those of his Cousin Madeleine. At heart, both were not
without feeling some emotion.

"Well, so much the better!" thought Alcide Jolivet, "to move others, one
must be moved one's self! I believe there is some celebrated verse
on the subject, but hang me if I can recollect it!" And with his
well-practiced eyes he endeavored to pierce the gloom of the river.

Every now and then a burst of light dispelling the darkness for a time,
exhibited the banks under some fantastic aspect--either a forest
on fire, or a still burning village. The Angara was occasionally
illuminated from one bank to the other. The blocks of ice formed so many
mirrors, which, reflecting the flames on every point and in every
color, were whirled along by the caprice of the current. The raft passed
unperceived in the midst of these floating masses.

The danger was not at these points.

But a peril of another nature menaced the fugitives. One that they
could not foresee, and, above all, one that they could not avoid. Chance
discovered it to Alcide Jolivet in this way:--Lying at the right side
of the raft, he let his hand hang over into the water. Suddenly he was
surprised by the impression made on it by the current. It seemed to be
of a slimy consistency, as if it had been made of mineral oil. Alcide,
aiding his touch by his sense of smell, could not be mistaken. It was
really a layer of liquid naphtha, floating on the surface of the river!

Was the raft really floating on this substance, which is in the highest
degree combustible? Where had this naphtha come from? Was it a natural
phenomenon taking place on the surface of the Angara, or was it to serve
as an engine of destruction, put in motion by the Tartars? Did they
intend to carry conflagration into Irkutsk?

Such were the questions which Alcide asked himself, but he thought it
best to make this incident known only to Harry Blount, and they both
agreed in not alarming their companions by revealing to them this new
danger.

It is known that the soil of Central Asia is like a sponge impregnated
with liquid hydrogen. At the port of Bakou, on the Persian frontier,
on the Caspian Sea, in Asia Minor, in China, on the Yuen-Kiang, in the
Burman Empire, springs of mineral oil rise in thousands to the surface
of the ground. It is an "oil country," similar to the one which bears
this name in North America.

During certain