The Cossacks had discharged their duty now, after seeing us into friendly hands, and in the morning they rode off to rejoin the detachment at Tiflis. We sent a letter of thanks by them to the Russian Prince, for although we had not been molested, we owed our exemption in all probability to the presence of the uniform. We had passed through a district especially delightful, even among their many happy hunting-grounds, to the heart of the only men among these mountains [unless it be the foreign gunsmiths, and a few of the timber-dealers] who have a profession and practise it with any decent diligence—I mean the gallant brigands. But they must not be quoted as a real exception to the rule of sovereign indolence; because they are not true Caucasians, otherwise they could never get through half of the robberies they accomplish.

The rest of us spent a whole day and two nights at the poor deserted tower, partly to refresh our horses, which were sent to the post-house down below, and partly to consider our plans, after receiving from the ancient steward the feeble light he could contribute. Although he had recognised Strogue so suddenly and with such affection, he forgot him entirely, and with equal speed, until we began to talk in English, and then he broke forth with the declaration that our language was sweeter to his ears than the murmur of a hive of bees breathing their last among their honey, or the first music of the waterfall that has broken the chains of winter.

When Strogue translated this to me, I felt some gratifying surprise; for our language is not so wonderfully mellifluous, or melodious; though our voices are not such a cackle as theirs. But the old gentleman soon revoked his claim upon my gratitude by explaining, as interpreted by Strogue, that the words indeed were strange and hideous, like the sound of a saw on a flinty rock; nevertheless, he loved them always, because they brought to his mind the years that had unrolled day after day, as bright as the rising of the sun, and as smooth as a lake at the foot of the mountains, where no wind comes blowing.

I could not quite see what his wits were driving at; but Strogue, who had very little reverence for anything, from seeing too much of all things, sang out, "Signor Nicolo?" and Kobaduk took it to his heart (which works much longer than the brain does), and came up to us, and touched both of us, with a shrivelled finger, upon either chest. "It is the name of the happy time; the time of the beautiful lady, and the noble lord, and the lovely babes; and nothing to do but to laugh and eat."

"And sleep," I suggested in his own language; and that completed his round of perfection, for he sent up the roots of his beard in a grin, and said, "Thou hast hit the mark." And then he sat down upon a swab to do it.

"Very fine, old codger, but beyond his time." Strogue gave him a tender poke with a stick, to make sure that he was not shamming; "we used to have faithful stuff like this in England; but education has vanquished it. He is sure to have a wife about twenty years old. Let us go in and stir her up. The wives are nothing but head-servants here. They are not sentimental, but they can cook, which is the highest duty of the female."

My feelings were shocked; but I left them so, because victuals alone could relieve them. The faithful retainer had overdone himself by that sudden outburst of decrepit hope. But he had got a young wife, which I thought too bad, until she proved the contrary by making us very comfortable, with a number of hot little barley-cakes, and some grilled kid flesh, which put a shine upon our faces. Then she poked her ancient husband up, and he came and fed, and played the host, and made runaway knocks at the time-worn gates of his memory.

The worst of it was that we could not be sure how much truth, and how much fiction, or at any rate confusion, issued from that antique repository. The older the thing was, the more it might be trusted—a truth which holds good with the bulk of modern work. Whenever we brought him to recent affairs, and the state of things now existing, he shook the silver tissue over his bright black eyes, and stared at us. "Kobaduk forgets, too long ago," was his chief perception of yesterday. However, we fetched him nearer date, by speaking of the Princess Marva.

Then the old man trembled, and turned his head away; and his fingers (which looked like empty bean-pods) fiddled at the cartridge loops which hung, like the smocking of a Surrey parish-clerk, on the quivering of his sunken breast.

"For the sake of God, who made us all," he mumbled; and although he had been feeding well, his wife offered him some brown bits in vain. "Let him be," said Strogue, "perhaps he'll have more pluck to-morrow."

But it did not seem to be so at all. He went up a ladder to bed that night in a loft that reeked of onions, and he dragged his old gun after him; but how he got his crooked knees up the rungs, and how he failed to shoot himself in the stomach, were difficulties not to be explained even by the miraculous powers of habit. "The old cock will come down like a lark to-morrow," Strogue prophesied, as the trap-door banged. But larks are more famous for going up, and the Captain's prediction was about as correct as his reference to natural history.

"What a set of funks these people are! Is there no one here to tell us anything?" we exclaimed almost with one accord, on the evening of the following day, the only one we spent at Karthlos. We had asked at the post-house, where SÛr Imar used to keep his horses, and we had tried Mrs. Kobaduk the fourth, and a grandson of the steward who hung about the house, and a woodcutter who came home sometimes, and a fellow called the huntsman, and everybody else we could come across. Most of them sat down and stared at us, and feigned not to understand what we meant; and then when we put the interpreter at them, all they would do was to shake their heads, and stretch their lazy hands westward. As for old Kobaduk, if he was like a lark, it was one who has a skewer through him; and all we could get him to do was to show us where the Princess Oria and her baby lay.

Alas, what an end for the loving and lovely, the passion of a warm life cold in dust, and the sad shadows creeping along the sadder grave. But I knew a heart in which she lived still, and a life as lovely as her own—were these to share her fate, or have a doom yet worse, and not even be restored to her in the silent home of death?

"I'll tell you what we will do, my boy," Strogue said to me after supper that night, and after we had puffed and spat and stamped at the noxious vapour of the native weed (which we should have to come to in the end, unless our own end spared us that), the frightful stuff, grown badly, and cured worse, which they dare to call tobacco; "this is a very grand place in its way, and the tradition of good victuals lingers still about. But the fragrance of the past is not enough for a man getting on in his forties. Hardships I have endured by the hundred, and could do it again like Elijah; though he only went forty days, which is nothing to my record. But you must understand, my son, that the fun of it is not so evident, when a man has got into napkin ways, and wants to lean back in his chair, and think of the things he has done, instead of doing them. Don't be in a wax, George, I am not thinking of cutting the expedition. Bat Strogue is made of too good stuff for that, and he means to have his little revenge as well. Only he must keep his headquarters somewhere within hail of the jack-spit. That sound has become of importance to him, and his nature is not ungrateful. The world is not made of love alone, or precious little there would be of it. Listen to the words of wisdom. Men who work hard must live well. Miners work hard, therefore they must live well. I never learned logic, but that sounds square."

"Very well, I am not going to controvert your logic. But how does it bear upon the present state of things?"

"Thus, thou wooden-headed Saxon. Nicolo's fellows are at work again. That much I found out yesterday; and you know the Prince as good as told us so. Kazbek is their diggings, a pretty large district, but not so extensive as Elbruz. It will be easy enough to find them out; then we hear a civilized tongue again, and get something civilized to put upon it. Here we can learn nothing; there we may get news. In the morning let us start for Kazbek."

I was only too glad to have it so. For although not belonging to those up-and-down natures, which are either at the zenith or the nadir, I found myself many pegs below the proper mark, among all this great breadth and vast height, with nothing to touch, or lay hold of anywhere. If Strogue was lost in sentimentality of stomach, which had been regarded with an excess of feminine tenderness at the "London Rock," I could feel for him heartily—though nobody might think it, through the affection of an organ of my own, which is not so far distant as the poets do imagine. So I said, "You are right. We will start again to-morrow."

This we did, and our spirits began to rise, as we left that grand but ill-fated place behind. From a rise of the mountain-track we saw it, magnificent in its dark command, and vastly improved by the distance. And then we struck into the great Dariel road, the causeway of the Caucasus. This we followed as far as the Russian fort, where we presented ourselves, and our letter from the Commander-in-Chief, and were entertained most hospitably. The Colonel was as kind as man could be, and showed no reserve or reluctance in answering most of our questions. My experience is too small to be of any value; but Strogue, who had seen a great deal of Russian policy and management in the vast tracts added to their empire, always maintained that the common talk about their grinding tyranny is jealous exaggeration; though they can be very stern and hard when they meet with savage treachery, even as we ourselves have been.

And now this officer, a very capable, active, and intelligent man, told us plainly that his orders were to hold himself entirely aloof from all the private feuds and quarrels among the mountain races, unless they revolted, or refused to pay their very moderate taxes, or were guilty of open violence, or outrage upon travellers. He had heard of SÛr Imar, as still the legitimate chief of an important tribe, for many years an exile now, but regarded kindly by the Government, and still in receipt of the larger part of his revenues through a Russian agent, who had been appointed upon his kinsman's death. But of his return or present whereabouts he knew no more than we did.

Then we asked him about the Princess Marva, and he smiled mysteriously. "We don't talk of her so freely," he said, as Strogue still pressed him. "She is a lady of very strong will, and has given us some trouble. But we hope that she is improving now, and her son is a pattern of excellence. If he would only take the command, which according to his rights he should have done long ago. But he is mild and submissive, though endowed with great abilities. Many of the village headmen are indignant that she does not retire, for he is beloved, while she is not. But we never interfere in such matters; we let them settle their own successions. Only in case of absence, such as that of Imar—"

"But Hafer himself has been long away," I interrupted him in some surprise, and with faulty words, which made Strogue smile, but the Russian was more courteous; "he has been for months in England."

"Of that I was not aware," the officer answered, after some reflection. "But the winter has been the worst ever known, and almost all the passes blocked, except those we kept open. But, gentlemen, as I said before, we do not interfere in private matters. You are going on, you told me, to that place upon the mountain, where certain Englishmen with our permission are in search of minerals. They may know more about such matters; for I believe that the lady has demanded payment from them, and does not recognise our licence, though Kazbek is not within her boundaries, or certainly not that part of it. If you will take my advice, which I offer simply as a private friend, and one who admires Englishmen, you will trespass as little as possible upon the domain of Madame Marva. I hope for the privilege of entertaining you, upon your return from the mountain."

This was plainly our dismissal, and his horse was waiting at the door for him. So as the sun was still high in the heavens, and the weather very favourable, we resolved to try to reach the mine that night, or rather I should say the diggings, for it had not attained the dignity of a mine, and was not very likely to do so. We took a young goatherd for a guide, and leaving our horses at a hut, set forth in search of the emerald-hunters.

Although we had no very great height to ascend, for the diggings were far below the summit, and there was a fair track nearly all the way, and a rope laid along the worst places, it was close upon sunset before we reached the magnificent gully where the miners had their camp. They were just leaving work for the day, and marching almost like a squad of soldiers to the cells they had scooped for their dwelling-places under the shelter of an overhanging crag. Each of them carried a rifle on his shoulder as well as a strong iron rod with a crook at the end, and a tool something like a spud, and a hammer with a long peak of steel. The captain, or master, or foreman, came last in the file with nothing in his hands but a deep tar-pot, and he proved to be Mr. Jack Nickols, a sturdy young man with a round red face, active, resolute, and profoundly contented with his own endowments.

"Halloa! Haven't you got a word to throw at a brother Englishman?" Strogue was sadly short of breath, but still capable of indignation, as these twelve or fourteen men regarded him with some suspicion, and not a token of hospitable emotion kindling in their bosoms. "We are not come to steal your dirty stones, or to set up shop against you. We are of the highest English birth, cousins to two Dukes, six Marquises, and a good round dozen of Earls. And what will touch you up more, my boys, if you are driven against nature to be Radicals, we have got three pounds of fine tobacco left; and if you are good, you shall have half of it."

This was an outburst of "Altruism," as the people who ought to be in Bedlam call it, which found no echo in my breast (because we were beginning to smoke our ashes), but set up an irresponsible rub-a-dub in theirs.

With one accord they all turned round; though bound for their suppers (as their mouths would have frankly declared, if sure of having more than they could do with), still they proved their higher value, and their sense of the fine arts—such as we cultivate now with picture-frames on Sunday—by stopping and pulling out empty pipes, and dropping their thumbs from the barrel to the bowl.

"Plenty of time," said Captain Strogue, who was up to all those little things; "fine fellows all of you; but you don't get a whiff till I know more about you. The laws of Great Britain hold good all over the globe, because they are righteous. You may shout in vain for Bacco, as the heathen gods did in their time. I am not a man of many words. We have had to smoke a lot of poison ourselves, and not a blessed son of a gun among you tastes a shred of the genuine weed, till I have got all I want out of you."

I thought that they would have turned crusty. But such misgivings showed that I did not understand my countrymen. An Englishman can put up with everything but humbug. Bar that, and he begins to think of you.

"I want a young fellow called Jack Nickols, the nephew of my old friend, Jemmy Nickols," Strogue went on with louder shouts, as he saw that the men were taking to him; "you are a rough lot, and you know it. But I have been round the world seven times; and take you as you are, I would rather have you than any other fellows I have ever come across. You are no wonders, mind you; but you know what's what. And more than that, you do it."

This was rather vague, though it sounded so precise. And I whispered to the Captain, "You are as good as John Bright." But he shoved me with his elbow, while his eloquence went down. Then the young man with the tar-pot came up mildly, in the presence of a larger spirit, and said, "Captain, you must be the celebrated traveller;" and Strogue looked at him augustly, and said, "Young man, you are right."

After this it is impossible for me to tell the glorious night they made of it. They had spent all the time, when they could not work, in making themselves more comfortable; and all the starvation they had been through was avenged upon itself by its own power. I have seen a good deal of eating; and Strogue had both seen and done a great deal more; and the voice of travellers is unanimous that the Caucasian native acknowledges no superior in that line. It is not for me to contradict them, but the impression I formed that night, and with my own mouth confirmed it, was that the British settler can in that, as in less important matters, adapt himself to his environment. The sheep of the mountain are but small, and we furthered nature's ordinances by making six, or perhaps I should say seven of them, smaller still. For the valleys were spread with the verdure of spring, and it covered their saddles with sweet white fat.

"One little slice more," Jack Nickols said; "this is the best of the batch, I know. What would we have given for a cut out of him last winter! But we were obliged to leave this place altogether. Forty feet deep the snow was here, and not a bit of firing to be got for love or money. You heard that two of us were frozen to death; but we never lost a man. We set that story going, and it did us a lot of good, and choked off another lot who wanted to come here. We have got it all to ourselves at present, and mean to keep it. You saw my tar-pot. Capital plan. An invention of my own. We have scarcely gone underground at all as yet. We scratch the crannies, and the dribble-places, and I stand by and watch every fellow. Wonderfully honest, and all that, no doubt; but just as well to look after them. Every bit of green they find, I drop it in the tar. They can't get it out again, even if they could find it, without telling tales on their fingers. Nine out of ten are not worth keeping; but we have got a few real beauties. There is one stone I wouldn't take a hundred pounds for, and a lot worth more than fifty. I'll show you some of them by daylight. It's the flaws, the flaws that murder them."

"We don't know anything about stones," replied Strogue, "and I would rather look through a good green bottle than all the emeralds that ever came from Peru, or wherever they get them. What we want to talk about is quite another pair of shoes, and I know you will help us if you can. We gave you that letter from your uncle. He will be out here this summer if he can. But we cannot wait for that. We must set to work at once. When the rest are gone, I will tell you all about it."

"We will go outside, if you don't mind. I can show you a very cosy place where we do our cooking, and the ashes warm the rock all night. Let us have our pipes there, and leave the tag-rag here."

We followed him gladly to the open air, and sat upon some bear-skins in a snug alcove of rock, with the stars shining on us, and the embers of the fire doing better service still. And here we told young Jack Nickols all our story, a great part of which he must have known already.

"You will never go home alive," he said, "if you are going to meddle with that woman. Let her have her own way. She always does. What right have you to conclude that she wants to murder her own twin-brother? It is likely enough, mind, from what you say, and in fact I have little doubt about it. But for all that, you don't actually know it, and if you did you are not the Russian Government. Let her alone, for God's sake."

We told him that this was the very thing we had sworn to ourselves we would never do; and that he must stand by us, like an Englishman, and like his uncle's nephew. "Stand a long way off more likely," he replied, "though I don't call myself a coward, and I hate that woman. But I will try to contrive something, and let you know to-morrow."