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Show -.; - m 1 ' ' - ; ITlEDS ESSE m iMffii 1 V BY GEORGE HORTON X Copyrighted, 1900, by Tk 'Bobbt-ilmtU Coowft rambling building of square, hewn logs, flanked by several small structures struc-tures about 10 o'clock, and breaking his bottle, gave his dispatch to a white-haired and corpulent soldier, with a very red face, whose, frayed and faded fad-ed uniform proved htm petty officer of some sort. This man glanced through the paper with wondering eyes, then read it aloud to a nondescript nonde-script group of old women, two or three soldiers, and a farmer or two who soon collected about hisn. Then he dashed into the house and set a telegraph tele-graph instrument, over which he sometimes some-times presided, to clicking. Hardv, chilled to the marrow, now that he had ceased walking and running, run-ning, and wearied to the point of collapse, col-lapse, sank on a rustic bench, believing believ-ing himself forgotten in the excitement evidently occasioned by his news. In this he soon found himself mistaken, however, for a toothless old crone, with a kindly face and a red handkerchief handker-chief tied over her bead, came up to him. and taking him by the arm, inquired: in-quired: "Zakouskat" He swallowed three glas.seg of vodka and ravenously devoured several caviar sandwiches, after which he was supplied sup-plied with warm, dry clothing and tucked away in bed. When he "awoke it was mid afternoon, and the old commandant had delved into a Russian French dictionary sufficiently to dig out the words, which he pronounced pro-nounced many times, with a smiling face, "Sauves. Monsieur, tous sauves!n therebv sffording the American the greatest joy and relief and establishing establish-ing his own repntstion at the station as a wonderful scholar. Hardy remained at the station one week, at the end of which time he resumed re-sumed his journey to Ptrvetensk on horseback, escorted bv half a dozen Cossacks bound for Irkutsk, on some military mission or other. As he passed by daylight the blackened black-ened snd devastated forests, his recent journey up the Amur, and his eiperi encea on the Pushkin seemed like a dream to him. When he reached th Pushkin, however, still reclining on the sand, the dream quickened into reality, and a feeling of intense homesickness or loneliness took possession of him. as when one beholds an untenanted house, out of which a loved one has been carried, car-ried, never more to return. He could see the Princess, tall and beautiful, standing on the deck, could feel the light pressure of her hand on his arm, could hear in imagination the tones of her voice, earnest, even sad at times, but with the laughter lurking behind, ever ready to ripple through. Yes. that was life while it lasted, he reflected, for the Princess was there; and perhaps it would have been better for his happiness happi-ness had life ended there, in that wild fight for her sweet sake. For now came Strvetensk and the store, and he should in all probability never see her again. But a man, if he be a ., . must be brave, whatever his fate, :i liirdj." did not long give rein to thoughts like these. He turned his face rpsolutclv towards to-wards Stryetensk. gaining what comfort com-fort he ronld from the remembrance that he had acquitted himself worthilv while under her pyes. Of one thing he was quite sure: she should see that he did not wish to presume on anything that he had dope for her. If he ever met her again it would not be through I his seeking. He learned, verv soon after his ar rival at Strvetensk, that the relief partv had put in an appearance a short time after his start down the river on his perilous trip, and that the Princess had been rescued this time entirely without his aid. (To Re Continued.) CHAPTES XXV. : nltt-Errnt- H4Udy'i jouraey down the awift, Ttpit, mjiterions rirer that night was -n- experience never to be forgotten. Often, at he clung to his little craft, his kneea would crape on the soft and, and just as frequently he would j awing off into deep water and hang . suspended above depth where he i might eaaily drown, ehould be take a cramp or loee hii nerve. Several times I -he grounded on sand banks and was ' obliged to drae off his wooden buoy, i a matter of do little difficulty, as it I w - partlv water-logged and . very I hea r. - Once he drifted cloe to shore j and found himself in a counter current, cur-rent, that aetuallr was taking him j back toward the Pushkin, and it was i only by swimming at right angles to ithis and giving his raft frequent vigorous vig-orous pushes, that he managed at last to get out into the downward sweep of I the stream. Fortunately the fires had not burned ! close to the water's edge at this point. 1 The smoke lay across the stream in a series of giant festoons. When he floated into one of these, the acrid j cloHd was stifling, choking and there was naught to 00 but keep' his face tioee to the water and drift blindly. When he came out into clear spaces, the spectacle was weird. Stygian, ma- iestic. The forest burning on either and the vast, lonely forest suggested sug-gested a world set afire and forsaken, while the flickering light that fell on the river tipped the sand hills with red and stained the rippling stretches of water with blood. Once, while in a dark mass of smoke, be heard mournful bowline as of ill omened hounds, and sharp, plaintive yelpings. Emerging, he beheld a pack of 1 wolves huddled upon an island of sand, ! rloee to them, not fearing them and ! kno'wing they did not fear him. ' Tn this monstrous world, this seem-ily seem-ily chimerical and fantastic world, jkotfon, America, the loss of his for-V, for-V, the girl that had jilted him. were VI forgotten. He was a knight errant of olden times, performing a feat of valor and amid such surroundings as the thaumaturgy of a Wagner or a Goethe might have conjured out of the thin air of poetic sorcery. He was winning his spurs, rescuing from danger a beautiful Princess whom he had come to a far land to find. But the fire did not extend a great distance down the river, not over three miles in all, perhaps. Hardy was about three hours accomplishing this part of his journey, for though the current was iwixt, he was as we have seen, subjected sub-jected to many delays. At last he -swung out into" a large circular pocket or basin, quite shallow and without motion save for a sluggish current running run-ning around its outer edge. Tt had evidentlv been in the main stream at one time, but the water falling, had onverted an opposing sandbar into a lam. H skirted this basin, resting on his iinv raft, without knowing that he had left the main body of the river, for ihe few dim stars and the rag of a noon-gave little light and the waters srere now black as ink. A lone pine, on a bluff, kindled, no doubt by a stray mber, buret into flames at this moment, mo-ment, and by this magnificent torch, j his situation "was revealed to him. The j whole shallow basin took on a deep red glow, and Hardv saw that a narrow sandpit separated him from the river proper, which was about a quarter of a mile wide at this point. j He arose to his feet, dripping and j chilly, for the air was cool now. and looked about him. There was a good, sandv beach on the other side, and the military road could be plainly seen. It was time to take to the shore, and that stretch of water must be got over somehow. It was probable that he could wade much of it, bnt some of it was, no doubt, over his head, perhaps of great depth. He would be carried syrftlv down stream, but the beach ex-r,dd ex-r,dd as far as his eye could reach, t rding out at last in the darkness VVre the light from his pine tree Torch failed to reach. Putting the bottle with the dispatch in his trousers trou-sers pocket, he removed his coat, improvised im-provised a string from the lining and tied his shoes about his neck. He remembered re-membered with a smile that it had occurred oc-curred to him to take off his shoes on leaving the Pushkin, but that he had be?n deterred by the presence of the Princess. Leaving his coat on the sand, he started bravelv around the basin to the point nearest "the opposite shore. So eagerly were his eyes fixed ra this, in his anxietv to get his bearings while the tree was still burning, that he stumbled stum-bled over some large object about the size of a log. but too soft for one. Looking Look-ing down he was horrified to behold three bodies of dead "hinec, lying side 1 by side, parallel, in as exact a position 1 as though arranged by human hands. Thev were all gazing straight up at the pkv'with g'ssy eyes, and the flare of Ihe burning tree threw a ghastly light on their vellow faces. Three or four yards from them lav the body of the slain Bouriat, with his rude wooden cross the emblem of the Prince of Peace and of Holr Russia bound to his breast. Hardy ran back, picked up his coat. nd after a moment's hesitation, dropped it decently over the Bouriat 's face. He had lost his life in defense of the Princess. Then, as the light of the burning tree flared defiantly starward and went out in the darkness, he waded boldly into the black waters. As he had hoped, the water was for much of the distance shallow. At times, however, it rose to his armpits, and then the current was so strong that it swept him from his feet. He struggled strug-gled resolutely onward, keeping the current cur-rent at right "angles with his body, and when at last -he plunged into deep water, wa-ter, he swam, not, it is true, with the amphibious assurance and primal animal skill of a Tfomanoff, but with a cool, calculating cal-culating ease that told him the distance could not be great and that he must not e-dhanst his strength. He soon touched Ktom again, after letting down his 4jVe half a dozen times, and was grati-fi-j that the slope shoreward was so r'ipid that he was able, in a very few minutes, to run. An hour after leaving the basin he was on the military road that stretched, dimly gTay, between the stolid, silent black of the Siberian forests and the star-sprinkled, whispering black of the river. He reached the military station a |