Part 27 (1/2)

”II est un pet.i.t homme, Tout habille de gris, Dans Paris!”

Imitating his rival, Alcide Jolivet had used a merry refrain of Beranger.

”Hallo!” said Harry Blount.

”Just so,” answered Jolivet.

In the meantime the situation at Kolyvan was alarming in the extreme.

The battle was raging nearer, and the firing was incessant.

At that moment the telegraph office shook to its foundations. A sh.e.l.l had made a hole in the wall, and a cloud of dust filled the office.

Alcide was just finis.h.i.+ng writing his lines; but to stop, dart on the sh.e.l.l, seize it in both hands, throw it out of the window, and return to the wicket, was only the affair of a moment.

Five seconds later the sh.e.l.l burst outside. Continuing with the greatest possible coolness, Alcide wrote: ”A six-inch sh.e.l.l has just blown up the wall of the telegraph office. Expecting a few more of the same size.”

Michael Strogoff had no doubt that the Russians were driven out of Kolyvan. His last resource was to set out across the southern steppe.

Just then renewed firing broke out close to the telegraph house, and a perfect shower of bullets smashed all the gla.s.s in the windows. Harry Blount fell to the ground wounded in the shoulder.

Jolivet even at such a moment, was about to add this postscript to his dispatch: ”Harry Blount, correspondent of the Daily Telegraph, has fallen at my side struck by--” when the imperturbable clerk said calmly: ”Sir, the wire has broken.” And, leaving his wicket, he quietly took his hat, brushed it round with his sleeve, and, still smiling, disappeared through a little door which Michael had not before perceived.

The house was surrounded by Tartar soldiers, and neither Michael nor the reporters could effect their retreat.

Alcide Jolivet, his useless dispatch in his hand, had run to Blount, stretched on the ground, and had bravely lifted him on his shoulders, with the intention of flying with him. He was too late!

Both were prisoners; and, at the same time, Michael, taken unawares as he was about to leap from the window, fell into the hands of the Tartars!

END OF BOOK I

BOOK II

CHAPTER I A TARTAR CAMP

AT a day's march from Kolyvan, several versts beyond the town of Diac.h.i.n.ks, stretches a wide plain, planted here and there with great trees, princ.i.p.ally pines and cedars. This part of the steppe is usually occupied during the warm season by Siberian shepherds, and their numerous flocks. But now it might have been searched in vain for one of its nomad inhabitants. Not that the plain was deserted. It presented a most animated appearance.

There stood the Tartar tents; there Feofar-Khan, the terrible Emir of Bokhara, was encamped; and there on the following day, the 7th of August, were brought the prisoners taken at Kolyvan after the annihilation of the Russian force, which had vainly attempted to oppose the progress of the invaders. Of the two thousand men who had engaged with the two columns of the enemy, the bases of which rested on Tomsk and Omsk, only a few hundred remained. Thus events were going badly, and the imperial government appeared to have lost its power beyond the frontiers of the Ural--for a time at least, for the Russians could not fail eventually to defeat the savage hordes of the invaders. But in the meantime the invasion had reached the center of Siberia, and it was spreading through the revolted country both to the eastern, and the western provinces. If the troops of the Amoor and the province of Takutsk did not arrive in time to occupy it, Irkutsk, the capital of Asiatic Russia, being insufficiently garrisoned, would fall into the hands of the Tartars, and the Grand Duke, brother of the Emperor, would be sacrificed to the vengeance of Ivan Ogareff.

What had become of Michael Strogoff? Had he broken down under the weight of so many trials? Did he consider himself conquered by the series of disasters which, since the adventure of Ichim, had increased in magnitude? Did he think his cause lost? that his mission had failed?

that his orders could no longer be obeyed?

Michael was one of those men who never give in while life exists. He was yet alive; he still had the imperial letter safe; his disguise had been undiscovered. He was included amongst the numerous prisoners whom the Tartars were dragging with them like cattle; but by approaching Tomsk he was at the same time drawing nearer to Irkutsk. Besides, he was still in front of Ivan Ogareff.

”I will get there!” he repeated to himself.

Since the affair of Kolyvan all the powers of his mind were concentrated on one object--to become free! How should he escape from the Emir's soldiers?

Feofar's camp presented a magnificent spectacle.