e end of his pole on the nearest block, and with one bound was safe
upon the islet, just as the ice torrent went rushing and roaring past.
The next moment his hand was on the shoulder of the prostrate man.

"Up with you, man!" roared he, shaking him violently; "up with you,
quick!"

But the man never moved. Either cold or fright, or both together, had
plainly rendered him quite helpless.

For an instant Feodor stood perplexed; and then he seemed to have made
up his mind what to do. Planting his feet firmly upon the rough ice, he
gave a powerful thrust with his pole, which pushed the block clear off
the sand-bank; and another shove sent it fairly out into the stream.

"Now, lads," shouted he, to his friends on the bank, who still kept
their hold of the connecting rope, "pull with a will."

The men, seeing at once what he meant to do, pulled at the rope with all
their might, while Feodor guided the floating mass with his pole. More
than once a huge block bore down upon him so swiftly that a fatal
collision appeared certain; but the young hero's skillful hand and eye
carried him through, and five minutes later the rescued man and his
deliverer were both safe on shore.

"Bravo!"[1] cried his companions, crowding eagerly around him.

"Bravo!" echoed a strange voice from behind; and it was then seen that a
handsome sleigh had halted beside the group, in which sat a tall,
soldier-like man in uniform, at sight of whom the peasants doffed their
caps and bowed low.

"What's all this?" asked the new-comer.

The story was soon told, and the stranger's face lighted up with a glow
of hearty admiration as he heard it.

"Well done, my brave fellow!" said he, handing Feodor a bank-bill for
twenty-five rubles ($19). "It's poor enough pay for such a day's work,
after all; but if ever you're in want of money, come to me, and you
shall have it, and welcome."

And away went the sleigh before Feodor could recover from his amazement,
which was not lessened when half a dozen of his comrades, all speaking
at once, informed him that this liberal stranger was no other than the
Governor of Saratov himself.

FOOTNOTES:

[1] The Russian word is "molodetz" (literally "fine fellow"),
answering to our familiar "bully boy."

[Illustration: MIGHTY QUAR.

"I DUNNO, BUT DAR'S A T'RIFFIC DRAFF ROUN' YAR."]

[Illustration: SCENES IN A SUGAR BUSH.--[SEE PAGE 366.]]

MAY'S BIRTHDAY.

Dancing round the May-pole--