"Oh, barrin," answered the man eagerly, "we have got him all right: he is safe at the bottom of an ore-pit in our village; and," he added, confidently, "he can't get out, because the whole of the villagers have surrounded the pit-head."
"That is all right, Ivan," I said; "wait for a few minutes and I will go with you, and we will see if we can catch him."
Ordering three fast horses to be harnessed to my tarantass, and refreshing Ivan with a good glass of vodka (spirits) to shake his benumbed faculties together, away we soon went at the rate of twenty versts an hour to the village from whence Ivan had come.
It would have been perfectly useless for me to have attempted to persuade this man that the person or "party," whoever he or whatever it was they had got in the pit, was not Satan himself. No; the only way to convince a Russian is to prove the matter; and even absolute proof is not always convincing.
On my arrival at the village I at once observed that something very unusual was exciting the attention of the inhabitants, as instead of the usual number of lazy men and women who are generally to be seen standing idling about in the streets of every hamlet, I found the place absolutely deserted; but on an adjacent hill stood the cause of the commotion.
A crowd of people—men, women, and children—were standing round the mouth of an ore-pit, some ten fathoms deep, and about as much like an ordinary English draw-well without the brick-lining as could possibly be conceived. All were talking at once, and all agreed that they had caught no less a personage than the very devil himself, as they felt quite sure that the miner who had last come out of the pit could not possibly be mistaken.
Now came the knotty questions: "How shall we get his Satanic majesty out of his retreat? and who among the spectators would be bold enough to undertake the risk of tackling such an awkward customer?"
The only manner of being hoisted up and down these antiquated examples of mining is by sitting astride a small piece of wood fastened to the end of a not too thick piece of rope, which in its turn is wound up and down by a wooden windlass—not a very desirable mode of descending, even when the men are not sure the "old gentleman" himself is in their neighbourhood, but decidedly dangerous when they think he is.
I therefore, although strongly solicited, declined the honour of descending, and looked about for a substitute. My eye caught sight of one of those rough-and-ready "ne'er-do-weels" who are to be found in Russia as well as in every other country—men who come to the surface of society when some particular daring deed has to be done, and sink out of sight again when the rewards of success have been distributed.
A few glasses of vodka in advance, and three silver roubles in prospective, assisted by friendly pats on the back from his companions, who were afraid to go themselves, were sufficient encouragements to animate this man of valour to the heroic pitch.