ccupied with his own thoughts of the
life and reception awaiting him in St. Petersburg, with those powerful
introductions from the influential Salmoros, he did not think of the
risk he was running in wandering away from the protected precincts of
the quiet village, guarded as it was by those stout mounted soldiers.
Ivan and his band were lurking about somewhere, ready to pounce on the
unwary traveller.

After a few minutes' slow walk, he came to a roadside ikon.
Mechanically he stopped and crossed himself. He was a man of deeply
religious feeling, and he fancied he had been blessed with a good omen
on his entrance into this strange country. A few prayers to the
Blessed Virgin and he would be sheltered from all harm.

Hardly had his lips ceased moving in reverent supplication, when he
was aware of a strange presence. A tall, bearded man emerged from the
semi-gloom and held out his hands with an imploring gesture.

"Save me for the sake of her whom we both reverence," he cried. He
spoke, like the last man who had addressed Nello, in lame and halting
French. He had evidently appreciated the fact that Corsini was not a
fellow-countryman.

Corsini started back and his hand stole to his hip pocket, from which
he produced a very serviceable revolver, which he levelled straight at
the intruder.

"Who and what are you?" he cried loudly, with a resolution he was far
from feeling. This rough, unkempt man looked as if he was possessed of
giant strength. If it had come to a hand-to-hand tussle, he could have
broken the slim young Italian in two. But Nello would not let it come
to that. He kept his pistol well levelled at the stranger's head. The
least movement and he would fire.

"Save me for her sake, for the sake of the Virgin," pleaded the man in
despairing accents. "You are not an outlaw like me; you have not been
through what I have. I trust you, for a man who says his prayers with
the devotion you do--I watched you behind the trees--would never
betray his hunted fellow-creatures."

And then a light came suddenly to Corsini, standing there, armed with
that eloquent pistol.

"You speak of yourself as an outlaw. I have just come from the little
village yonder, which is in a state of commotion with mounted
soldiers. They are looking for an outlaw, a convict escaped from the
mines of Siberia. I am right in saying that you are 'Ivan the Cuckoo.'
Where is your band of assassins and robbers who prey upon the
travellers and