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SCHNEIDER’S GREAT DEPARTMENT STORE
5
1106 and 1108 Broadway,
Augusta, Georgia.
- -
THE COURIER *
OF THE CZAR »
By Jules Veroe
-yg. -ayjwv
~~ "T 'OS-
“Even to throw yourself into the wa
ter when I teil you?”
“Whenever you tell me.”
“Have confidence in me, Nadia.”
“I have indeed.”
The Tartar boats were now only a
hundred feet distant. They carried a
detachment of Bokharian soldiers on
their way to reconuoiter round Omsk.
The ferryboat was still two lengths
from the shore. The boatmen redou
bled their efforts. Michael himself seiz
ed a pole and wielded it with superhu
man strength. If he could land the
tarantass and horses and dash off with
them, there was some chance of escap
ing the Tartars, who were not mount
ed.
But all their efforts were in vain.
The soldiers from the first boat shout
ed.
Michael recognized the Tartar war-
cry, which is usually answered by lying
fiat on the ground.
As neither he nor the boatmen obeyed
this injunction, a volley was let fiy
among them, and two of the horses
were mortally wounded.
At the next moment a violent blow
was felt. The boats had run into the
ferryboat.
“Come, Nadia!” cried Michael, ready
to jump overboard.
The girl was about to follow him
when a blow from a lance struck liim.
and he”was thrown into the water. The
current swept him away. His hand
raised for an instant above the waves,
and then he disappeared.
Nadia uttered a cry, but before she
had time to throw herself after him
she was seized and dragged into one
of the boats.
In a few minutes the boatmen were
killed and the ferryboat was left to
drift away while the Tartars continued
to descend the Irtish.
CHAPTER VIII.
HE blow which had struck
Michael Strogoff was not
mortal. By swimming in
a manner by which he
had effectually concealed
himself he had reached
the right bank, where he
fell exhausted among the bushes.
When he recovered his senses, he
found himself in the cabin of a mujik.
who had picked him up and cared for
him and to whom he owed his life.
For how long a time had he been the
guest cf this brave Siberian? He could
not guess, but when he opened his eyes
he saw the handsome bearded face
bending over him and regarding him
with pitying eyes. He was about to
ask where he was when the mujik, an
ticipating him, said:
“Do not speak, little father, do not
spealc. Thou art still too weak. I will
tell thee where tbou art and everything
that has passed since I brought thee to
my cabin.”
And the mujik related to Michael
Strogoff the different incidents of the
struggle which he had witnessed—the
attack upon the ferry by the Tartar
boats, the pillage of the tarantass and
the massacre of the boatmen.
But Michael Strogoff listened no lon
ger, and, slipping his hand under his
garment, he felt the imperial letter still
secured iu his breast.
He breathed a sigb of relief. But that
was not all.
“A young girl accompanied me,” said
he.
“They have not killed her,” replied
the mujik, anticipating the anxiety
which he read iu the eyes of his guest.
“They have carried her off in their
boat and have continued the descent cl
the Irtish. It is only one prisoner more
. to join so many others which they are
taking to Tomsk.”
Michael Strogoff was unable to reply.
He pressed his hand upon his heart to
restrain its beating.
But. notwithstanding these many
trials, the sentiment of duty mastered
his whole soul.
He remembered the errand which he
had undertaken. Indeed never by day
or night was his emperor’s mission for
even a moment absent from his mine.
Not the presence of the greatest dan
ger, the tortures of hunger and thirst,
the weariness of excessive fatigue, not
even all combined could car.se him to
forget that a momentous matter wa ;
intrusted to his courage, his zeal, his
fidelity aud his endurance. Michael
Strogoff was worthy of this trust.
“Where am I ?” asked he.
“Upon the right bank of the Irtish,
only five versts from Omsk,” replied
the mujik.
“What wound can I have received
which could have thus prostrated me?
It was uot a gunshot wound?”
“No; a lance thrust upon the head,
now healing,” replied the mujik. “Aft
er a few days’ rest, little father, thou
wilt be able to proceed. Tliou didst fall
into the river, but the Tartars neither
touched nor searched thee, and thy
purse is still iu thy pocket.”
Michael Strogoff gripped the mujik’s
hand. Then, recovering himself with a
sudden effort, “Friend,” said he, “how
long have I been in thy hut?”
“Three days.”
“Three day3 lost!”
“Three days hast thou lain uncon
scious.”
“Hast thou a horse to sell me?”
“Thou wishest to go?”
“At once.”
“I have neither horse nor carriage,
little father. Where the Tartar has
passed there remains nothing!”
“Well, I will go on foot to Omsk to
find a horse.”
! uunst upon ms mind at the same time
that this traveler was the old Zingari
whose words he had overheard iu the
market place of Nijni Novgorod.
The mujik and Michael resumed their
Vay and arrived at the posting house.
| To leave Omsk by one of the breaches
| would not be difficult after nightfall.
“A few more hours of rest aua tnou
wilt be in a better condition to pursue
tby journey.”
“Not an hour!”
“Come, now,” replied the mujik. rec
ognizing the fact that it was useless
to struggle against the will of his guest,
“I will guide thee myself. Besides,”
he added, “the Russians are still in \ *^ s *- or purchasing a carriage to.replace
great force at Omsk, and thou couldst j tarantass, that was impossible,
perhaps pass unperceived.”
“Friend,” replied Michael, “heaven
reward thee for all thou hast done for
me.”
“Reward! Only fools expect reward
on earth,” replied the mujik.
Michael Strogoff went out of the hut.
When he tried to walk, he was seized
with such faintness that without the
assistance of the mujik he would have
fallen, but the fresh air quickly re
vived him. He then felt the wound in
his head, the violence of which his fur
cap had lessened. With the energy
which he possessed he was not a man ;
There was none to be let or sold. But
what want had Michael Strogoff now
for a carriage? Was he not alone, alas?
A horse would suffice him, and, very
fortunately, a horse could be had. It
was an animal of mettle, capable of
enduring much fatigue, and Michael
Strogoff, accomplished horseman as he
was, could make good use of it.
The horse cost a high price, and a
few moments later Michael was ready
to start It was then 4 o’clock in the
afternoon.
stepping back.
“Michael!” again cried his aged moth
er.
“My name is not Michael. I never
was your son! I am Nicholas Korpa-
noff, a merchant of Irkutsk.”
And suddenly he left the public room,
while for the last time the words re
echoed:
“My sou, my son!”
Michael Strogoff. by a desperate ef
fort, had gene. He did not see his old
mother, who had fallen back almost in
animate npon a bench. But wlicn the
tce W01 [ ld 1 TV ’°y ! y I j impatience, requiring of him one tiling
deny a son whem God Has given me? , J ^ to beai - him rapidly to
Ivan Ogareff regarded with an evil j > ll0U se. where lie could
eye the old woman who had braved changed for a 5cker conve y 2 nre.
him to the race. He did not doubt but , midnight he bad cleared seventy
that she had recognized her son in this j V(?rsts aad bahed at the station of Ko u
young Siberian. Now. if this son had ]ikovo But there , as be feared, lit
first renounced his mother and if his . , ... „
mother renounced him in her turn it
could occur only from the most weighty
motive.
Every circumstance went to confirm
his suspicions. If he could but lay his
lie
found neither horses nor carnages.
Several Tartar detachments had pass
ed along the highway of the ste; ?e
Everything had been stolen or requ:. -
tioned both in the villages and iu the
i posting houses. It was w^j.h diffic- .lty
postmaster hastened to assist her the j upon this pretended merchant of j lhat Michael Strogoff was even able to
aged woman raised herself. Suddenly I Irkutsk and stuped his disguise, would , obtain some refreshment for his horse
a thought occurred to her. She denied
by her son! It was not possible. As
for being herself deceived and taking
another for him—equally impossible. It
was certainly her son whom she had
just seen, aud if he hml not recognized
j her it was because he would not, it
Michael Strogoff, compelled to wait I was because be ought not, it was be-
till nightfall in order to pass the forti- - cause he had. some cogent reason for
to~succurnb "under''such aTriflT BeTore j Gcations, but uot desiring to show him- acting thus! And then, her mother
his eyes lay a single goal—far distant;
Irkutsk. He must reach it! But he
must pass through Omsk without stop
ping there.
“God protect my mother and Nadia!”
he murmured. “I have no longer the
right to think cf them!”
Michael Strogoff and the mujik soon
arrived in the mercantile quarter of the
lower town, and, although under mili
tary oceupatiou, they entered it with
out difficulty. The surrounding earth
work had been destroyed In many
places, and there were the breaches
through which the marauders who fol
lowed the armies of Feofar-Kabn had
penetrated.
The mujik was conducting his guest
straight to the posting house when in a
narrow street Michael Strogoff, com
ing to a sudden stop, sprang behind a
jutting wall.
“What is the matter?” quickly asked
the mujik, much astonished at this sud
den movement.
“Silence!” hastily replied. Michael
Strogoff, with his finger on his lips.
At this moment a detachment de-
i bouched from the principal square Into
i the street which Michael Strogoff and
his companion had been just following.
At the bead of the detachment, com
posed of twenty horsemen, was an offi
cer dressed in a very simple uniform.
Although be glanced rapidly from one
eide to the other, he could not have
seen Michael Strogoff owing to his pre
cipitous retreat.
The detachment went at full trot into
the narrow street Neither the officer
nor his escort concerned themselves
about the inhabitants. Several unlucky
ones had scarcely time to make way
for their passage. There were, there
fore, a few half stifled cries, to which
the thrusts cf the lance gave an instant
reply, and the street was immediately
cleared.
When the escort had disappeared,
“Who Is that officer?” asked Michael
Strogoff, returning toward the mujik.
And while putting the question his face
was pale as that of a corpse.
“It is Ivan Ogareff,” replied the Sibe
rian, but in a deep voice which breath- j
ed hatred.
“He!” cried Michael Strogoff, from
whom the word escaped with an accent
of fury which he could not conquer.
He had just recognized in this officer
the traveler who had struck him at the
posting house of Ichim, and, although
he had only caught a glimpse of him, it
self in the streets of Omsk, remained in : feelings arising within her, she bad but
the posting bouse and there partook of I one thought—“Can I unwittingly have
food. ! ruined him?”
There was a great crowd in the pub- i “I am mad «” s k e sldd to her Inter-
lic room, it being the resort of numbers i rogators. “My eyes have deceived me!
cf the anxious inhabitants, who at this I This young man is not my child.
he not find a treasure indeed? Would
not his superiors well reward his adroit
ness and his success? Would not the
czar of Russia scowl with rage when
he learned that his courier was in the \
hands of his foes?
Ivan Ogareff had therefore no doubt
that the pretended Nicholas Korpnnoff
was Michael Strogoff. courier of the
czar, seeking concealment under a false
name and charged with some mission
which it would have been important
j and himself.
j It was of great importance therefore
: to spare bis horse, for he could not t .11
when or how he might be able to re-
3 pl a ce it. Desiring, however, to put the
■ greatest possible distance between Iiim-
j self and the horsemen whom Ivan Oga
reff had no doubt dispatched in pursuit,
! he resolved to push on. After oue
] hour’s rest he resumed his course across
j the steppe.
And on July 30, at 4 p. m., Michael
" ^ XI LI V.i VU UUIJ UV, w -X . Ul., *
for him to know He thereiore at once- i ^t rogo ff, heedless of fatigue, arrived at
eventful period collected there to ob
tain news. They were talking of the
expected arrival of a corps of Musco-
I vite troops, not at Omsk, but at Tomsk,
a corps Intended to recapture that town
i from the Tartars of Feofar-Kahn.
| Michael Strogoff lent an attentive ear
: to all that was said, but took no part
in the conversation.
i Suddenly a cry made him tremble, a
' cry which penetrated to the depths of
his soul, aud these two words, so to
speak, rushed into his ear:
“My son!”
His mother, the old woman Marfa,
was before him! Trembling, she smil
ed upon him. She stretched forth her
arms to him. Michael Strogoff arose,
lie was about to throw himself—
The thought of duty, the serious dan
ger for his mother and himself in this
unfortunate meeting, suddenly stopped
him, and such was his command over
himself that not a muscle of his face
moved.
There were twenty people In the pub
lic room. Among them were perhaps
spies, aud was it uot known in the
town that the son of Marfa Strogoff
belonged to the corps of the couriers of
the czar?
Michael Strogoff did not move.
“Michael!” cried his mother.
“Who are you, my good lady?” Mi
chael Strogoff stammered, unable to
speak In bis usual firm tone.
“Who am I, thou askest? Dost thou
no longer know thy mother?”
“You are mistaken,” coldly replied
Michael Strogoff. “A resemblance de
ceives you.”
The old Marfa went up to him and,
looking straight into his ej r es, said:
“Thou art uot the son of Peter and
Marfa Strogoff?”
Michael Strogoff would have given
his life to have locked his mother in his
arms, but if be yielded it was all over
with him, with her, with his mission,
with his oath! Completely master of
himself, he closed his eyes .in order not
to see the inexpressible anguisb which
agitated the revered countenance of bis
mother. He drew back bis bands in
order not to touch those trembling
hands which sought him.
“I do not k|iow, in truth, what it Is
ypu say, my good woman,” be replied,
He
had not his voice. Let us think no |
more of it. If we do, 1 shall end by •
finding him everywhere.”
Less than ten minutes afterward a
Tartar officer appeared in the posting
house.
“Marfa Strogoff?” he asked.
“It is I,” replied the old woman in a j
tone so calm and with a face so tran
quil that those who had witnessed the
meeting with her son would not have '
known her'
“Come,” said the officer. Marfa Stro
goff, with firm step, followed the Tar
tar officer and left the posting house.
Some moments afterward Marfa Stro- j
goff found herself in the chief square
and In the presence of Ivan Ogareff, to
whom all the details of this scene had
been immediately reported.
Ivan Ogareff, suspecting the truth, in
terrogated the old Siberian woman.
* “Thy name?” he asked in a rough
voice.
“Marfa Strogoff.”
“Tbou hast a son?”
“Yes.”
“He is a courier of the czar?”
“Yes.”
“Where is he?”
“At Moscow.”
gave orders for his pursuit. Then he
said:
“Let this woman be conducted to
Tomsk,” returning toward Marfa Stro
goff.
And while the soldiers brutally drag
ged her along be added between bis:
teeth:
“When the moment arrives, I shall
know how to make her speak, this oid:
sorceress!”
! Elamsk.
There he was forced to give a night's
rest to Ids horse. The courageous
beast could not have continued that
journey any longer.
At Elamsk there was no mean; of
transportation for the same reasons as
in the burghs already passed by—car
riages and horses were gone.
[AO BE CONTINUED.J
CHAPTER IX.
T was fortunate that Mi
chael Strogoff had left the
posting house so prompt- ,
ly. The orders of Ivan
Ogareff had been tame- !
diately transmitted to all
the approaches of the
city and a full description of Michael
sent to all the various commandants. In
order to prevent his departure from
Omsk. But he had already passed
through one of the breaches in the for
tifications. His home was galloping i
over the steppe, and, not having been
womjuh
IS LIKE A DELICATE
BSVSiGAL SNS7RUF.*.E**T
In good condition she is sweet and lovable,
and sings life's song on a joyful harmonicus
string. Out of order or unstrung, there is
discordance and unhappiness. J ust as there
is one keynote to all music so there is one key
note to health. A woman might as well try
to fly without wings as to feel well and lock
well while the organs that make her a woman
are weak or diseased. She must be her. Ay
inside or she can’t be healthy outside. There
iiui.iiti.wus iare thousands of women suffering silently ail
immediately pursued, the chances of . over ^ country _ Mistaken modesty urges
“Thou hast heard no news of him?”
“No nows.”
“Since how long?”
“Since two mouths.”
“Who, tbeu. was that young man
whom thou didst call thy son a few
moments ago at the posting house?”
“A young Siberian whom I took for
him,” replied Marfa Strogoff. “This is
the tenth man in whom I have thought
I recognized my son since the town has
been so full of strangers. I think I see
him everywhere.”
“So this young man was not Michael
Strogoff?”
“It was not Michael Strogoff.”
“Dost thou know, old woman, that 1
can torture thee until thou avowest the
truth?”
“I have spoken the truth, and torture
will not cause me to alter my words in
any way.”
“This Siberian was not Michael Stro
goff?” asked a second time Ivan Oga
reff.
“No, it was not he,” replied a second
escape were in his favor.
It was on the 29th of July, at 8 o’clock
iu the evening, that Michael Strogoff
had left Omsk. This town is situated
about half way between Moscow and
Irkutsk, where it was necessary that
he should arrive within ten days if he
wished to get ahead of the Tartar col
umns. It was evident that the un
lucky chance which had brought him
Into the presence of his pother had be
trayed his Incognito. Ivan Ogareff was
no longer ignorant of the fact that a
courier of the czar had just passed
Omsk, takin,: the direction of Irkutsk.
The dispatches which this courier bore
must have been of immense impor
tance. Michael Strogoff knew, there
fore, that every effort would be made
to capture him.
But what he did not know and could
not know was that Marfa' Strogoff was
in the hands of Ivan Ogareff and that
she was about to atone, perhaps with
i her life, for that natural exhibition of
her feelings which she had been unable
to restrain when she suddenly fonnd
herself in the presence of tier son. And
it was fortunate that he was ignorant
of it Could he have withstood this
fresh trial?
Michael Strogoff urged on his horse.
time Marfa Strogpff. “Do you think ImbuiQ " him own feverish
modesty
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