ave seen you again! Pray for me!"

Michael continued to dig, though the ground, having been tightly rammed
down, was as hard as stone, and he managed at last to get out the body
of the unhappy man. He listened if his heart was still beating.... It
was still!

He wished to bury him, that he might not be left exposed; and the hole
into which Nicholas had been placed when living, was enlarged, so that
he might be laid in it--dead! The faithful Serko was laid by his master.

At that moment, a noise was heard on the road, about half a verst
distant. Michael Strogoff listened. It was evidently a detachment of
horse advancing towards the Dinka. "Nadia, Nadia!" he said in a low
voice.

Nadia, who was kneeling in prayer, arose. "Look, look!" said he.

"The Tartars!" she whispered.

It was indeed the Emir's advance-guard, passing rapidly along the road
to Irkutsk.

"They shall not prevent me from burying him!" said Michael. And he
continued his work.

Soon, the body of Nicholas, the hands crossed on the breast, was laid in
the grave. Michael and Nadia, kneeling, prayed a last time for the poor
fellow, inoffensive and good, who had paid for his devotion towards them
with his life.

"And now," said Michael, as he threw in the earth, "the wolves of the
steppe will not devour him."

Then he shook his fist at the troop of horsemen who were passing.
"Forward, Nadia!" he said.

Michael could not follow the road, now occupied by the Tartars. He must
cross the steppe and turn to Irkutsk. He had not now to trouble himself
about crossing the Dinka. Nadia could not move, but she could see for
him. He took her in his arms and went on towards the southwest of the
province.

A hundred and forty miles still remained to be traversed. How was the
distance to be performed? Should they not succumb to such fatigue? On
what were they to live on the way? By what superhuman energy were they
to pass the slopes of the Sayansk Mountains? Neither he nor Nadia could
answer this!

And yet, twelve days after, on the 2d of October, at six o'clock in the
evening, a wide sheet of water lay at Michael Strogoff's feet. It was
Lake Baikal.

CHAPTER X BAIKAL AND ANGARA

LAKE BAIKAL is situated seventeen hundred feet above the level of the
sea. Its length is about six hundred miles, its breadth seventy. Its
depth is not known. Madame de Bourboulon states that, according to the
boatmen, it likes to be spoken of as "Madam Sea." If it is called "