CHAPTER XXV

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eanwhile, at the estate of Peter Vseslavitch, the day dawned clear and fine—but upon what a scene of uproar!

All night the household had been corked up as if tight in a bottle—as far as following the marauders was concerned; for when, a few minutes after that last intimidating shot of Virot's, they had burst out of the house and run quickly to the stables, it was only to discover that all the horses were gone.

"By the ever-to-be-praised apostles!" swore Andrieff, his red beard wagging in impotent rage, "the devils have turned the horses loose on the steppe. Every box is empty!"

It was true—and almost frantic with distress Peter and the overseer had been forced to turn back into the house to wait till day-break.

Well! there was work there for them while they waited. Paul and the lad Alexis were soon brought back to consciousness with nothing more serious than badly swollen and throbbing heads. But poor Baxter still lay in a heap on the floor. He seemed not to have stirred. And Peter thought, as he knelt over him, that he would never move again.

They lifted his sagging body to a couch and then Andrieff, who was something of an amateur surgeon, examined him carefully.

The bullet had ploughed a furrow just above his temple; but after some probing Andrieff decided it had passed on without penetrating the skull. His heart was still beating faintly and they forced spirits between his lips until after a time he revived. Paul himself helped put the wounded man in bed and would not leave him until he saw that Baxter had dropped off into a natural sleep.

Then with the others he paced the floor impatiently until it began to grow light. There were four of them—and with the help of as many more trusty servants they felt they could give Boris and his crew a pretty fight—if they could only find him!

Not till they came to decide on what men they would take with them did Paul recall how he had been disposed of earlier in the night.

"That big moujik who showed me to my room last evening!" he cried suddenly, turning to Peter. "Where is the dog? It was he who struck me down!"

"By the Lord!" exclaimed Andrieff, "that explains why the horses are gone! The cur is a traitor! I'll cut his heart out this day!"

"He took old Moka out of the room, too, do you remember?" Peter asked. "He must have been in Boris's pay all the while—the man has been with us but a short time. Oh! if I could but get my hands upon his villainous throat!" But of what avail were imprecations? The four men finally ceased to talk, but the fierce determination which grimly lighted each face, boded ill for Boris' cut-throat gang, when they should be come up with, on the morrow.

At last day dawned, and as soon as they could catch horses enough—the brutes had wandered back toward the stables as it became lighter—they were off.

The heavy rain, which had kept up nearly all the night, had completely obliterated the fugitives' tracks. Without a trail their first step seemed to be to visit the shooting-lodge whence Boris had made his sally.

Two hours' hard riding brought them to the place. It looked deserted, but Paul rode his horse close to the door and knocked viciously upon it. There was no response.

"It seems," said Peter, with a politeness that his looks belied, "that our friends are not at home."

Verdayne's answer sounded very much like an oath. He gave the door one final kick, and finding his rough summons ineffectual, turned to his companions.

"Look you!" he said. "I am not at all sure that this house is as empty as it seems. I'm going to ride alongside the garden wall so that I can climb over the top. I want to go investigating."

In a twinkling he had put his plan into execution and dropped over the wall into the garden. He walked round the house and found it shuttered, dark and silent. He whistled a long whistle to himself.

"I wonder," he thought, "if all the birds have flown. I wonder if they really have left the house entirely empty." Just then Andrieff joined him, and putting their shoulders against the rear door that opened into the garden, they easily forced an entrance. With drawn revolvers they leaped inside, and began to prowl about the place. Finally in a wardrobe on an upper floor they discovered a servant hiding. As they dragged him out at first he showed fight, but one blow from Andrieff's sledge-like fist beat him into submission, and in another moment they had him pinned against the wall.

"Tell me where your master is," said Andrieff in a fierce voice.

The man remained silent.

"Tell me," he said again, "and tell me quickly. Tell me at once or you will regret it."

The man gave a sudden wrench and twisted one of his arms free. He reached out and grasped a heavy silver candlestick.

But Andrieff was too quick for him. He dealt him a blow on the muscles of his shoulder which half paralyzed the creature's arm. The candlestick dropped with a clatter from his hand.

Then Andrieff gave his pent-up passion full play, and it was a miracle that he did not kill his man.

He wrenched an antimacassar from a chair and used it as a gag. With one powerful hand he dragged the captive by the neck to the window; with the other he threw up the casement and whistled sharply for Peter, who soon came running up the stairs and through the open door.

"We'll bind this cur," said the overseer through his teeth, and he thrust the man back into a deep, cane-hooded chair. Then he and Peter securely lashed the man's feet together, tying his hands behind his back.

This work done, they paused and listened; but, in spite of the scuffle there had been, there was no sound of approaching footsteps, nor, indeed, any sign that they had been overheard.

"Now, then," said he of the red beard, "heat that poker in the fire."

Peter quickly thrust the poker between the bars of the grate, in which the coals were red.

"Stoi!" cried the man—"Stop! They have gone to the old ChÂteau Ivanovitch."

"If you're lying," said Andrieff, "we'll come back and cut you into ribbons for the dogs."

"By the beard of my father," the man gasped, "I am telling you the truth. God strike me if I am not!" and he looked at the reddening poker with frightened eyes.

"I believe the hound speaks truly," said Peter. "Come! we have no time to waste here." Leaving the whimpering peasant tied, they hurried down to the court-yard, and soon were in the saddle again.

The splendid animals they rode responded nobly. They were of a famous Arabian strain, which his grandfather had introduced into his stable many years before, and Peter, who led the little band, did not spare them. On and on they raced, but it was late afternoon when they neared the end of the trail, for several hours had been consumed in the detour to the hunting-lodge.

About a half mile from the foot of the eminence on which the chÂteau stood, they came to a halt, and after a short consultation decided it would be best to wait till after dark before trying to effect an entrance. Accordingly, they dismounted, and leading their horses a little distance into a sheltering wood, they waited impatiently until night fell. Even then they agreed, though reluctantly, that it would be the wiser plan to wait another two hours at least, when there would probably be fewer people stirring about the chÂteau.

At last, and it seemed an eternity to Paul, as he waited in the gloomy wood with his heart heavy with anxiety for his dear love—at last he heard the signal given which told him the time had come. And soon they were in the road again.

It was intensely dark beneath the trees, and Paul could feel light boughs and sometimes heavy branches scrape along his shoulders.

Suddenly they stopped, and Paul saw that they were in a little clearing. Then the flame of a match outlined the shape of a gate.

"Here we are," cried Peter, in a low voice.

They dismounted and, gathering around Peter, discussed the situation quickly. It was agreed at length that Verdayne, with Andrieff and Alexis, should pass the gate and proceed to the chÂteau to reconnoitre, while Peter remained with the others at the gate until they should return.

Paul started forward therefore with the overseer and Peter's cousin. He pulled back the iron catch and to his surprise found that the gate was unlocked.

"Come!" he said, as he pulled it open, and the three went in together.


                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                           

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