The Deluge. Vol. 1

"That is nothing!" interrupted Prince Boguslav. "I was riding this horse in the company of that cavalier, of whom I bought him."

And after a while he added: "I paid him well."

CHAPTER XXVIII

The trusty Soroka carried his colonel through the deep forest, not knowing himself what to begin, whither to go or to turn.

Kmita was not only wounded, but stunned by the shot. Soroka from time to time moistened the piece of cloth in a bucket hanging by the horse, and washed his face; at times he halted to take fresh water from the streams and forest ponds; but neither halts nor the movement of the horse could restore at once consciousness to Pan Andrei, and he lay as if dead, till the soldiers going with him, and less experienced in the matter of wounds than Soroka, began to be alarmed for the life of their colonel.

"He is alive," answered Soroka; "in three days he will be on horseback like any of us."

In fact, an hour later, Kmita opened his eyes; but from his mouth came forth one word only, -

"Drink!"

Soroka held a cup of pure water to his lips; but it seemed that to open his mouth caused Pan Andrei unendurable pain, and he was unable to drink. But he did not lose consciousness: he asked for nothing, apparently remembered nothing; his eyes were wide open, and he gazed, without attention, toward the depth of the forest, on the streaks of blue sky visible through the dense branches above their heads, and at his comrades, like a man roused from sleep, or like one recovered from drunkenness, and permitted Soroka to take care of him without saying a word, – nay, the cold water with which the sergeant washed the wound seemed to give him pleasure, for at times his eyes smiled. But Soroka comforted him, -

"To-morrow the dizziness will pass, Colonel; God grant recovery."

In fact, dizziness began to disappear toward evening; for just before the setting of the sun Kmita seemed more self-possessed and asked on a sudden, "What noise is that?"

"What noise? There is none," answered Soroka.

Apparently the noise was only in the head of Pan Andrei, for the evening was calm. The setting sun, piercing the gloom with its slanting rays, filled with golden glitter the forest darkness, and lighted the red trunks of the pine-trees. There was no wind, and only here and there, from hazel, birch, and hornbeam trees leaves dropped to the ground, or timid beasts made slight rustle in fleeing to the depths of the forest in front of the horsemen.

The evening was cool; but evidently fever had begun to attack Pan Andrei, for he repeated, -

"Your highness, it is life or death between us!"

At last it became dark altogether, and Soroka was thinking of a night camp; but because they had entered a damp forest and the ground began to yield under the hoofs of their horses, they continued to ride in order to reach high and dry places.

They rode one hour and a second without being able to pass the swamp. Meanwhile it was growing lighter, for the moon had risen. Suddenly Soroka, who was in advance, sprang from the saddle and began to look carefully at the ground.

"Horses have passed this way," said he, at sight of tracks in the soft earth.

"Who could have passed, when there is no road?" asked one of the soldiers supporting Pan Kmita.

"But there are tracks, and a whole crowd of them! Look here between the pines, – as evident as on the palm of the hand!"

"Perhaps cattle have passed."

"Impossible. It is not the time of forest pastures; horse-hoofs are clearly to be seen, somebody must have passed. It would be well to find even a forester's cabin."

"Let us follow the trail."

"Let us ride forward!"

Soroka mounted again and rode on. Horses' tracks in the turfy ground were more distinct; and some of them, as far as could be seen in the light of the moon, seemed quite fresh. Still the horses sank to their knees, and beyond. The soldiers were afraid that they could not wade through, or would come to some deeper quagmire; when, at the end of half an hour, the odor of smoke and rosin came to their nostrils.

"There must be a pitch-clearing here," said Soroka.

"Yes, sparks are to be seen," said a soldier.

And really in the distance appeared a line of reddish smoke, filled with flame, around which were dancing the sparks of a fire burning under the ground.

When they had approached, the soldiers saw a cabin, a well, and a strong shed built of pine logs. The horses, wearied from the road, began to neigh; frequent neighing answered them from under the shed, and at the same time there stood before the riders some kind of a figure, dressed in sheepskin, wool outward.

"Are there many horses?" asked the man in the sheepskin.

"Is this a pitch-factory?" inquired Soroka.

"What kind of people are ye? Where do ye come from?" asked the pitch-maker, in a voice in which astonishment and alarm were evident.

"Never fear!" answered Soroka; "we are not robbers."

"Go your own way; there is nothing for you here."

"Shut thy mouth, and guide us to the house since we ask. Seest not, scoundrel, that we are taking a wounded man?"

"What kind of people are ye?"

"Be quick, or we answer from guns. It will be better for thee to hurry. Take us to the house; if not, we will cook thee in thy own pitch."

"I cannot defend myself alone, but there will be more of us. Ye will lay down your lives here."

"There will be more of us too; lead on!"

"Go on yourselves; it is not my affair."

"What thou hast to eat, give us, and gorailka. We are carrying a man who will pay."

"If he leaves here alive."

Thus conversing, they entered the cabin; a fire was burning in the chimney, and from pots, hanging by the handles, came the odor of boiling meat. The cabin was quite large. Soroka saw at the walls six wooden beds, covered thickly with sheepskins.

"This is the resort of some company," muttered he to his comrades. "Prime your guns and watch well. Take care of this scoundrel, let him not slip away. The owners sleep outside to-night, for we shall not leave the house."

"The men will not come to-day," said the pitch-maker.

"That is better, for we shall not quarrel about room, and to-morrow we will go on," replied Soroka; "but now dish the meat, for we are hungry, and spare no oats on the horses."

"Where can oats be found here, great mighty soldiers?"

"We heard horses under the shed, so there must be oats; thou dost not feed them with pitch."

"They are not my horses."

"Whether they are yours or not, they must eat as well as ours. Hurry, man, hurry! if thy skin is dear to thee!"