Grodno continued paddling with all his might, and just as the shore loomed up darkly ahead, a burst of flame shot aloft from the barge, illuminating the water for many yards around. The tumult was now terrific. The steamer's shrill whistle mingled with the cries of the frightened convicts and the hoarse command of the soldiers. The flames were long since beyond all control, and the barge was doomed. The steamer had dropped alongside, and appeared to be taking the prisoners from the burning vessel.
Deeply interested in the thrilling sight, the fugitives in the boat almost forgot their own peril.
They waited until the barge was a mass of flames from bow to stern, and then Grodno drove the boat on shore. As soon as Hamid and the boys were on it, he turned it bottom up, and sent it adrift with the current.
"Captain Stanisla thinks we're drowned," he explained to Maurice. "Maybe won't look for us. Hurry now, we must get away. They'll soon miss us."
With a last look at the steamer lying motionless on the water, and the blazing hull of the barge, they turned up the steep bank and plunged into a thick forest.
Grodno as assumed the leadership, and he hurried the party along at a rapid rate of speed, picking his way with wonderful skill among the trees. Hour after hour they pressed on untiringly, pausing once for a brief rest, and when at last the grey light of dawn shone through the forest, the river was miles to the rear.
Hungry and exhausted, the fugitives threw themselves on a mossy glade. A dense forest of poplars and silver birches was all around them, and close by was a babbling brook flowing over a bed of pebbles. Here they refreshed their thirst, and then, reckless of the consequences, they slept for an hour or more, until the sun was well up and shining brightly through the trees.
Maurice knew that St. Petersburg was many miles away, but he was hardly prepared for the Russian's statement that the actual distance was about twenty-five hundred miles.
"St Petersburg lies to the west," explained Grodno; "but to the Russian frontier it is not more than a thousand miles, that is the point we must strike for, and we stand a good chance of reaching it, for the country to our west is much of it wild, and we are hundreds of miles north of the great Siberian roads, where capture would be certain.
"And what shall we do for food?" asked Maurice, in dismay. "How are we going to live through such a journey as that?"
"There are villages scattered through the country," replied Grodno "and the people are always willing to aid escaped prisoners. Our first necessity is a change of clothes. We must rid ourselves of these convict garments."
"But shan't we be pursued?" asked Maurice; "how can we hope to escape the soldiers?"
"We must take the chances," replied Grodno, coolly. "Our escape was discovered long ago, of course. It is possible that when the empty boat is found they will believe that we are at the bottom of the river, but it is more than likely that the Cossacks will scour the country. We must stay in hiding for a few days."
Grodno turned aside to converse with Hamid, and Maurice explained to Phil what the Russian had told him. In spite of the discouraging outlook, the boys were now hopeful.
"Everything depends on reaching St. Petersburg without being retaken," said Maurice, "and once there, Phil, I shall try to see Colonel Jaroslav. If we succeed in that, we shall be saved, and Vladimir Saradoff shall pay dearly for this outrage.
To Maurice, comparatively ignorant of the tremendous obstacles in the way, the chances of reaching St. Petersburg seemed very good, and his cheering words brightened up Phil considerably.
The conversation was cut short by Grodno, who announced that it was time to start.
The Russian was armed with the gun and the sword, while Hamid was in possession of the revolver. They travelled on through the forest until long past noon, and then, worn out by long marching and by hunger, they halted by a small stream. It was impossible to proceed further without food. A close search revealed a few stunted raspberries, which were eagerly devoured. Birds were chattering overhead in the trees; but Grodno refused to use his weapon for fear the Cossacks should hear the report and be attracted to the spot. They succeeded in finding enough raspberries partly to satisfy their hunger, and with fresh hope they straggled on for three or four miles.
Towards sunset a glad sight met their eyes. In a small clearing amid the forest stood a roughly-built log-hut. Grodno advanced boldly to the door, and after two or three unanswered knocks flung it open and entered. He reappeared in a moment, beckoning to his companions, and then hurried eagerly forward.
"Some woodcutter's hut," said Grodno. "The owner has gone away; but he was considerate enough to leave this behind him, and he pointed to a couple of hard loaves of broad and a quantity of dried mushrooms. A careful search revealed nothing else that could be of use save a few matches, and leaving the hut, they pressed on through the forest. With sunset came a chilly breeze, but this caused the fugitives little inconvenience with their heavy woollen clothing, and when it became too dark to travel, they camped by the side of a big rock, and pulled branches from the birch-trees to make a bed.
"It was a very encouraging sign," Grodno said, "that no trace of pursuit had yet come near them."
He conversed awhile with Hamid, and then both went calmly to sleep.
Maurice and Phil remained awake for some time listening to the rustling of the trees in the tree-tops, and thinking over their dreary situation. In spite of their weariness, they were unable to sleep.
I wish it were possible to make our way back to Russia without our companions," said Maurice. "They are both hard characters, I am certain of that, and they may intend to commit other crimes. We may find ourselves in a worse plight than we were in before."
"I agree with you there," replied Phil. "and what is more, I have a dreadful suspicion that it was Grodno and Hamid who set the barge on fire."
"By Jove!" exclaimed Maurice, suddenly, "why didn't I think of that before? You are right, Phil— you are certainly right. These two scoundrels started that fire in order to escape, and ran the risk of burning all those poor wretches alive. What bloodthirsty fiends they must be. I declare I'm sorry we left the barge at all. Why Phil, if we're caught now, they'll probably shoot us. We are equally guilty with these two villains. Grodno says he can procure us other clothing, and as that is absolutely necessary, we shall be compelled to stay with them for a few days yet; but at the very first opportunity we will leave them and strike out for ourselves. It is a mighty slim chance, but anything is preferable to keeping company with such men."
"Hush!" said Phil, "I believe they are awake."
The boys had barely time to lie down and feign sleep, when Grodno sat up and looked around him.
He fell back in a moment; and after lying awake for nearly an hour longer, not daring to resume the conversation, the boys finally fell into a restless slumber that lasted till daybreak.
Enough food still remained to make the fugitives a breakfast, and after hunting up a small stream, where the boys washed their faces and quenched their thirst, the march was resumed to the westward.
So great was the aversion which Maurice and Phil felt towards their companions since the mutual discovery made the previous nights that it was impossible to avoid showing it. Grodno perhaps realised something of this, for his repulsive face wore a sullen aspect, and he turned his whole attention to Hamid, carrying on an animated conversation, not a word of which the boys understood.
A few hours' march through the same monotonous country brought them to the edge of a vast open plain carpeted with waving grass and numerous wild-flowers.
Along the edge of the wood ran a well-defined road on which recent wheel-tracks were plainly visible, and less than two miles distant towered from the plain a couple of gilded crosses shining in the morning sun, and a cluster of low, grey houses.
As they stood gazing in consternation on the distant village and the open country, Grodno fiercely motioned them under cover.
Along the very side of the road lay dense timber with high grass and scattered rocks. Crouching down in this, the boys could see a vehicle of some sort approaching rapidly from the direction of the village. As it drew nearer, they saw that it was a small waggon covered with a leather hood, and drawn by a pair of black horses.
A peasant in a red shirt was driving, and behind with folded arms a military-looking man in a blue coat.
Grodno, who was under shelter of a big rock, slightly in advance of the boys, turned round and fiercely commanded them to lie low and make no noise.
He deliberately drew back the trigger of his rifle, and thrust the muzzle out through the branches, whispering as he did so to Hamid, who at once cocked his revolver and crept a foot closer to the path.
The waggon was now within twenty yards of the spot, rattling smoothly over the grassy road, and still the boys failed to realise the dreadful significance of Grodno's preparation. When the awful truth did flash into Maurice's mind, the next instant it was already too late. Taking careful aim, Grodno pulled the trigger, and a sharp report echoed over the plain, followed by a puff of white smoke.
* * *
CHAPTER VII
Through the wavering curls of smoke Maurice saw the nearer horse plunge heavily to the ground, dragging his mate with him, and that same quick glance showed him the crouching form of Hamid in the act of pulling his revolver on the officer seated in the waggon.
With Maurice to think was to act, and like a flash he sprang on the Turk's back at the very second that the man fired.
His aim was spoiled, however, and the ball from the weapon whizzed over the officer's head.
In an instant all was confusion. Hamid, with a cry, fell back into the copse, struggling to tear loose from the brave boy's hold, while Phil, quick to grasp the situation, threw himself on Grodno, and they rolled together into the road almost to the wheels of the waggon.
Grodno's shot had killed the one horse, and his mate, in frantic alarm, broke from his fastenings and darted like a streak over the plain, leaving the waggon and its two occupants to their fate.
The cowardly driver, frightened out of his wits by the shooting and by the sight of the grey convict garbs left the waggon at a leap, and ran in a zigzag course towards the distant village, uttering howls of fright at every step. The officer was a man of quite different calibre. Without the least appearance of fright he leaned forward, and opening a black box in the bottom of the waggon, drew out a pair of revolvers. The sight of the two convicts struggling in the roadway must have puzzled him considerably, for he looked on without attempting to make any use of his weapons.
Phil was no match for Grodno. The burly convict twisted him over and over, and finally dashed his head against a projecting stone with stunning force. Phil's grasp loosened, and Grodno was free. Seeing that the game was up, he made a sudden dash for the woods, but the officer, concluding that the time had come for him to act, raised one of his revolvers and fired.
A sharp cry of pain followed the report, and Grodno, falling heavily forward, vanished in the undergrowth.
Meanwhile, under cover of the bushes, Maurice and Hamid were struggling desperately. The enraged Turk fought like a demon trying in vain to make use of the revolver which he still clutched in his hand, but Maurice held him in a firm embrace, and they rolled over and over through the grass, neither gaining the ascendancy. At length Maurice got his antagonist just where he wanted him underneath, and clutching his throat with one hand, was about to wrest the revolver from him with the other, when the bushes parted almost beside him, and he glanced up to see Grodno's evil countenance glaring at him. The convict's left arm hung motionless at his side stained with blood. Maurice released his hold on the Turk instantly, and darted into the woods, intending to circle round and see what had become of Phil and the officer. He made a short detour which brought him to the edge of the road, some twenty or thirty yards above the waggon.
Peeping cautiously from the fringe of bushes, he saw Phil lying motionless in the path, and the officer apparently bending over him. Then came a startling interruption. Grodno and Hamid burst from the forest with loud shouts, the former swinging the rifle around his head with one arm, and flung themselves on the officer, who staggered to his feet just in time to meet the attack. Shouts of anger were heard, but the combatants were so enveloped in a cloud of dust that Maurice could not tell how the battle was going.
"If I only had a weapon of some sort," he exclaimed, half aloud, and just then his eyes fell on a stout cudgel lying close at hand, a staff dropped probably by some peasant. Seizing this, he hurried quickly down the road, intent on rescuing the imperilled officer. As he drew near, a pistol cracked sharply above the din of voices and Hamid's short, chunky figure spun round for a brief second in the cloud of dust, and then dropped heavily in the roadway.
Maurice had barely time to see Grodno and the officer struggling over the possession of a revolver when a sharp trumpet-blast echoed through the air. A clash of steel seemed to shake the ground, and then round a slight curve in the road came at full tilt a squad of Cossacks, brandishing their naked swords. They surrounded the waggon with a circle of men six deep, and when Grodno gave up the fight in despair, and turned to flee, he was hemmed in beyond all hope of escape. A fierce expression passed over his face, and then he calmly folded his arms as a sign of submission.
Hamid lay motionless in the road, his greasy garments stained to match the scarlet of his fez, and close by was Phil, his face pale and corpse-like.
The rescued officer saluted the commander of the Cossacks, and conversed with him for ten minutes or more, pointing from time to time at Maurice and Grodno, and the two motionless forms on the ground. He was plainly much puzzled over the affair. From the few words of the Cossack's reply which Maurice was able to understand he inferred that these soldiers had been in pursuit of them since the time of their escape.
Fearing lest Phil was badly injured, if indeed not dead, he moved towards him, but was roughly ordered back. At the same moment the conversation ceased, and two of the soldiers came forward with the runaway black horse, which they attached to the waggon, dragging the dead animal to the side of the road.
