"There is nothing to fear,
friend," said he.

"Nothing for you, nor for her, I know, little father," answered
Nicholas, "but for me!"

"It is my fate," he continued. And he put his horse in motion again.
However, in spite of these forebodings the day passed without any
accident.

At twelve o'clock the next day, the 6th of September, the kibitka halted
in the village of Alsalevok, which was as deserted as the surrounding
country. There, on a doorstep, Nadia found two of those strong-bladed
knives used by Siberian hunters. She gave one to Michael, who concealed
it among his clothes, and kept the other herself.

Nicholas had not recovered his usual spirits. The ill-omen had affected
him more than could have been believed, and he who formerly was never
half an hour without speaking, now fell into long reveries from which
Nadia found it difficult to arouse him. The kibitka rolled swiftly along
the road. Yes, swiftly! Nicholas no longer thought of being so careful
of his horse, and was as anxious to arrive at his journey's end as
Michael himself. Notwithstanding his fatalism, and though resigned, he
would not believe himself in safety until within the walls of Irkutsk.
Many Russians would have thought as he did, and more than one would have
turned his horse and gone back again, after a hare had crossed his path.

Some observations made by him, the justice of which was proved by Nadia
transmitting them to Michael, made them fear that their trials were not
yet over. Though the land from Krasnoiarsk had been respected in its
natural productions, its forests now bore trace of fire and steel; and
it was evident that some large body of men had passed that way.

Twenty miles before Nijni-Oudinsk, the indications of recent devastation
could not be mistaken, and it was impossible to attribute them to others
than the Tartars. It was not only that the fields were trampled by
horse's feet, and that trees were cut down. The few houses scattered
along the road were not only empty, some had been partly demolished,
others half burnt down. The marks of bullets could be seen on their
walls.

Michael's anxiety may be imagined. He could no longer doubt that a party
of Tartars had recently passed that way, and yet it was impossible
that they could be the Emir's soldiers, for they could not have passed
without being seen. But then, who were these new invaders, and by what
out-of-the-way path across the steppe had they been able to join th