Pan Michael

"It does," answered Lusnia. "They march in the night, evidently to gain shelter from heat, and rest in the day; they are sending the horses now to pasture till evening."

"Is there a large guard with the horses?"

Lusnia pushed out again to the edge of the wood, and did not return for a longer time. At last he came back and said,--

"There are about fifteen hundred horses and twenty-five men with them.

They are in their own country; they fear nothing, and do not put out strong watches."

"Could you recognize the men?"

"They are far away yet, but they are Lithuanian Tartars. They are in our hands already."

"They are," said Pan Adam.

In fact, he was convinced that not a living foot of those men would escape. For such a leader as he, and such soldiers as he led, that was a very light task.

Meanwhile the herdsmen had driven the beasts nearer and nearer to the forest. Lusnia thrust himself out once again to the border, and returned a second time. His face was s.h.i.+ning with cruelty and gladness.

"Lithuanian Tartars," whispered he.

Hearing this, Pan Adam made a noise like a falcon, and straightway a division of dragoons pushed into the depth of the wood. There they separated into two parties, one of which disappeared in a defile, so as to come out behind the herd and the Tartars; the other formed a half-circle, and waited.

All this was done so quietly that the most trained ear could not have caught a sound; neither sabre nor spur rattled; no horse neighed; the thick gra.s.s on the ground dulled the tramp of hoofs; besides, even the horses seemed to understand that the success of the attack depended on silence, for they were performing such service not for the first time.

Nothing was heard from the defile and the brushwood but the call of the falcon, lower every little while and less frequent.

The herd of Tartar horses stopped before the wood, and scattered in greater or smaller groups on the meadow. Pan Adam himself was then near the edge, and followed all the movements of the herdsmen. The day was clear, and the time before noon, but the sun was already high, and cast heat on the earth. The horses rolled; later on, they approached the wood. The herdsmen rode to the edge of the grove, slipped down from their horses, and let them out on lariats; then seeking the shade and cool places, they entered the thicket, and lay down under the largest bushes to rest.

Soon a fire burst up in a flame; when the dry sticks had turned into coals and were coated with ashes, the herdsmen put half a colt on the coals, and sat at a distance themselves to avoid the heat. Some stretched on the gra.s.s; others talked, sitting in groups, Turkish fas.h.i.+on; one began to play on a horn. In the wood perfect silence reigned; the falcon called only at times.

The odor of singed flesh announced at last that the roast was ready.

Two men drew it out of the ashes, and dragged it to a shady tree; there they sat in a circle cutting the meat with their knives, and eating with beastly greed. From the half-raw strips came blood, which settled on their fingers, and flowed down their beards.

When

Afternoon came. The heat flew down from heaven more and more. The forest was varied with quivering streaks of light made by the rays of the sun penetrating dense places. Everything was silent; even the falcons ceased to call.

A number of Tartars stood up and went to look at the horses; others stretched themselves like corpses on a battlefield, and soon sleep overpowered them. But their sleep after meat and drink was rather heavy and uneasy, for at times one groaned deeply, another opened his lids for a moment, and repeated, "Allah, Bismillah!"

All at once on the edge of the wood was heard some low but terrible sound, like the short rattle of a stifled man who had no time to cry.

Whether the ears of the herdsmen were so keen, or some animal instinct had warned them of danger, or finally, whether Death had blown with cold breath on them, it is enough that they sprang up from sleep in one moment.

"What is that? Where are the men at the horses?" they began to inquire of one another. Then from a thicket some voice said in Polish,--

"They will not return."

That moment a hundred and fifty men rushed in a circle at the herdsmen, who were frightened so terribly that the cry died in their b.r.e.a.s.t.s. An odd one barely succeeded in grasping his dagger. The circle of attackers covered and hid them completely. The bush quivered from the pressure of human bodies, which struggled in a disorderly group. The whistle of blades, panting, and at times groaning or wheezing were heard, but that lasted one twinkle of an eye; and all was silent.

"How many are alive?" asked a voice among the attackers.

"Five, Pan Commandant."

"Examine the bodies; lest any escape, give each man a knife in the throat, and bring the prisoners to the fire."

The command was obeyed in one moment. The corpses were pinned to the turf with their own knives; the prisoners, after their feet had been bound to sticks, were brought around the fire, which Lusnia had raked so that coals, hidden under ashes, would be on the top.

The prisoners looked at this preparation and at Lusnia with wild eyes.

Among them were three Tartars of Hreptyoff who knew the sergeant perfectly. He knew them too, and said,--

"Well, comrades, you must sing now; if not, you will go to the other world on roasted soles. For old acquaintance' sake I will not spare fire on you."

When he had said this he threw dry limbs on the fire, which burst out at once in a tall blaze.

Pan Adam came now, and began the examination. From confessions of the prisoners it appeared that what the young lieutenant had divined earlier was true. The Lithuanian Tartars and Cheremis were marching in the vanguard before the horde, and before all the troops of the Sultan.

They were led by Azya, son of Tugai Bey, to whom was given command over all the parties. They, as well as the whole army, marched at night because of the heat; in the day they sent their herds out to pasture.

They threw out no pickets, for no one supposed that troops could attack them even near the Dniester, much less at the Pruth, right at the dwellings of the horde; they marched comfortably, therefore, with their herds and with camels, which carried the tents of the officers. The tent of Murza Azya was easily known, for it had a bunchuk fixed on its summit, and the banners of the companies were fastened near it in time of halt. The camp was four or five miles distant; there were about two thousand men in it, but some of them had remained with the Belgrod horde, which was marching about five miles behind.

Pan Adam inquired further touching the road which would lead to the camp best, then how the tents were arranged, and last, of that which concerned him most deeply.

"Are there women in the tent?"

The Tartars trembled for their lives. Those of them who had served in Hreptyoff knew perfectly that Pan Adam was the brother of one of those women, and was betrothed to the other; they understood, therefore, what rage would seize him when he knew the whole truth.

That rage might fall first on them; they hesitated, therefore, but Lusnia said at once,--

"Pan Commandant, we'll warm their soles for the dog brothers; then they will speak."

"Thrust their feet in the fire!" said Pan Adam.

"Have mercy!" cried Eliashevich, an old Tartar from Hreptyoff. "I will tell all that my eyes have seen."

Lusnia looked at the commandant to learn if he was to carry out the threat notwithstanding this answer; but Pan Adam shook his head, and said to Eliashevich,--

"Tell what thou hast seen."

"We are innocent, lord," answered Eliashevich; "we went at command. The murza gave your gracious sister to Pan Adurovich, who had her in his tent. I saw her in Kuchunkaury when she was going for water with pails; and I helped her to carry them, for she was heavy--"

"Woe!" muttered Pan Adam.

"But the other lady our murza himself had in his tent. We did not see her so often; but we heard more than once how she screamed, for the murza, though he kept her for his pleasure, beat her with rods, and kicked her."

Pan Adam's lips began to quiver.

Eliashevich barely heard the question.

"Where are they now?"

"Sold in Stambul."