ropean territory. The consequence was that in Siberia, whilst
traversing the insurgent provinces, he would have no power over the
relays, either in the choice of horses in preference to others, or in
demanding conveyances for his personal use; neither was Michael Strogoff
to forget that he was no longer a courier, but a plain merchant,
Nicholas Korpanoff, traveling from Moscow to Irkutsk, and, as such
exposed to all the impediments of an ordinary journey.

To pass unknown, more or less rapidly, but to pass somehow, such were
the directions he had received.

Thirty years previously, the escort of a traveler of rank consisted of
not less than two hundred mounted Cossacks, two hundred foot-soldiers,
twenty-five Baskir horsemen, three hundred camels, four hundred horses,
twenty-five wagons, two portable boats, and two pieces of cannon. All
this was requisite for a journey in Siberia.

Michael Strogoff, however, had neither cannon, nor horsemen, nor
foot-soldiers, nor beasts of burden. He would travel in a carriage or on
horseback, when he could; on foot, when he could not.

There would be no difficulty in getting over the first thousand miles,
the distance between Moscow and the Russian frontier. Railroads,
post-carriages, steamboats, relays of horses, were at everyone's
disposal, and consequently at the disposal of the courier of the Czar.

Accordingly, on the morning of the 16th of July, having doffed his
uniform, with a knapsack on his back, dressed in the simple Russian
costume--tightly-fitting tunic, the traditional belt of the Moujik,
wide trousers, gartered at the knees, and high boots--Michael Strogoff
arrived at the station in time for the first train. He carried no arms,
openly at least, but under his belt was hidden a revolver and in his
pocket, one of those large knives, resembling both a cutlass and a
yataghan, with which a Siberian hunter can so neatly disembowel a bear,
without injuring its precious fur.

A crowd of travelers had collected at the Moscow station. The stations
on the Russian railroads are much used as places for meeting, not only
by those who are about to proceed by the train, but by friends who come
to see them off. The station resembles, from the variety of characters
assembled, a small news exchange.

The train in which Michael took his place was to set him down at
Nijni-Novgorod. There terminated at that time, the iron road which,
uniting Moscow and St. Petersburg, has since been con