active. He lay down at the side
attacked by the savage pack. He drew his knife, and every time that a
wolf passed within his reach, his hand found out the way to plunge his
weapon into its throat. Neither were Jolivet and Blount idle, but fought
bravely with the brutes. Their companions gallantly seconded them.
The battle was carried on in silence, although many of the fugitives
received severe bites.

The struggle did not appear as if it would soon terminate. The pack was
being continually reinforced from the right bank of the Angara. "This
will never be finished!" said Alcide, brandishing his dagger, red with
blood.

In fact, half an hour after the commencement of the attack, the wolves
were still coming in hundreds across the ice. The exhausted fugitives
were getting weaker. The fight was going against them. At that moment, a
group of ten huge wolves, raging with hunger, their eyes glowing in the
darkness like red coals, sprang onto the raft. Jolivet and his companion
threw themselves into the midst of the fierce beasts, and Michael was
finding his way towards them, when a sudden change took place.

In a few moments the wolves had deserted not only the raft, but also
the ice on the river. All the black bodies dispersed, and it was soon
certain that they had in all haste regained the shore. Wolves, like
other beasts of prey, require darkness for their proceedings, and at
that moment a bright light illuminated the entire river.

It was the blaze of an immense fire. The whole of the small town of
Poshkavsk was burning. The Tartars were indeed there, finishing their
work. From this point, they occupied both banks beyond Irkutsk. The
fugitives had by this time reached the dangerous part of their voyage,
and they were still twenty miles from the capital.

It was now half past eleven. The raft continued to glide on amongst the
ice, with which it was quite mingled, but gleams of light sometimes
fell upon it. The fugitives stretched on the platform did not permit
themselves to make a movement by which they might be betrayed.

The conflagration was going on with frightful rapidity. The houses,
built of fir-wood, blazed like torches--a hundred and fifty flaming
at once. With the crackling of the fire was mingled the yells of the
Tartars. The old boatman, getting a foothold on a near piece of ice,
managed to shove the raft towards the right bank, by doing which a
distance of from three to four hundred feet divided it from