Part 38 (2/2)
”He has so many friends.”
He was ticking off names from his list and asking the bearers questions during this conversation, which took some time.
”My time is precious, too,” argued Ian. ”I'll bury my chaplain and come back to you then. In the meantime you can perhaps think of some way to help me.”
The officer pointed to a motor-lorry which was pa.s.sing them on its way out of the camp. It was packed full of ghastly-looking men.
”There's your answer. How can I help with this h.e.l.l going on day and night?” he exclaimed irritably.
”Give me two horses and a peasant's cart.”
”There are none.”
”Then a pa.s.s for a train ... room on the roof will do.”
His face softened now. He thought he was to get rid of this importunate civilian.
”A capital idea. But I can't give you the pa.s.s. It's not my job. The officer who can is over there.”
He pointed towards the station. ”Go to him. Say I sent you. Nicolai Petrovich Ketov is my name. Good luck!” and he hurried into the tent.
On his way to the station Ian met Ostap.
”The devil take this hole!” he cried by way of greeting. ”Not a horse to be found. Nor a cart. Nothing but bad temper and confusion.” Then, when he heard the other's experience:
”Ketov. Don't know the name ... a Little Russian, I expect. But you can see all these officers are too busy to bother with us. I'll try humbler folk. Never mind. Do you go bury your priest. Meanwhile, give me your card, if you have one about you and write down the number of your followers and your quest upon it. Have you any money? That is always useful.”
”Yes.” Lately, he had been in the habit of carrying about all the ready money he possessed in case of an emergency like this. But he did not tell the Cossack he had enough to keep his little family for a few weeks, till he could sell the family jewels. In silence he pulled out a couple of hundred roubles, produced a card, and a note which he had had from the Grand Duke a week before.
”I'll not take the money, because we don't pay for any conveyance we may get till we're all in it. But I'll take that note. It may help us to get the conveyance,” said Ostap.
He went off, whistling, and Ian sought the others. He found they had been more fortunate, for they had made friends with old Princess Orsov, better known in Petrograd and Moscow as Vera Petrovna. And she had heard of the Countess, first from hearsay; then, more fully, from the Grand Duke, for she was a personal friend of the imperial family.
She listened in silence to the Countess' story, her bright, Tatar eyes taking in every detail of that tired, well-bred face and the torn clothes, never made for tramping over battlefields. She took a fancy to the Polish woman at once, admired her courage and her determination.
When the tale was told she made the three women go into a little pinewood hut which stood by the roadside, and managed to get them some hot coffee in a remarkably short time, considering the confusion.
”You shall have a dinner when it is ready,” she said, speaking the purest French. ”I'll help you to get off by hook or crook. But we are hard pressed here to find room for your wounded. Wait a moment I'll go and talk to my head nurse.” And she hurried out, leaning on her stick.
”How clean this is!” sighed Vanda, looking round the cell-like place.
”I wonder if she'll give us some soap and water, as well as a dinner. I seem to want it more than food.”
”She'll give us everything,” said Minnie cheerfully. ”She is the good fairy who always turns up, even in real life, when things look blackest.
No, Countess?”
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