“But he will serve me now, faithfully, and Chris must make friends with him. Will you go into the hut a moment? Come, Chris,” and as she went away I led the dog to Karasch and made him understand that he was to regard the man as a friend. It was not easy, for Karasch himself was afraid; but I stood by while he patted the dog’s head, and I made Chris lick his hand. Then I sent him back to the hut.
“Now, Karasch, what is it?” I asked.
“The devil is it, Burgwan. I slept and Petrov has gone.”
It was ugly news, and made me grave.
“So you couldn’t even keep watch, for all your big words,” I said angrily.
“It has never chanced so before,” he replied sullenly; and his glance across toward the cottage told me the thought behind the words.
“If you were to cut your finger I suppose you’d set it down to the same cause just now. You have served me an ill turn. You can send Gartski to find him, the sooner the better.”
“You are mad, Burgwan.”
“Mad to have trusted to your keeping awake, perhaps. Not in this. If one has got away, where’s the use of keeping the other? When we had both safe, it was well; but two can do no more harm than one away; and we needn’t be bothered by keeping watch over a traitor. I’ll speak to him.”
“Come here, Gartski.” He rose sheepishly and crossed to me. “How long has Petrov been gone, and where has he gone?”