I watched her quick, sure movements with a constantly growing admiration, my former liking for her changing to a sort of reverent love.
When she had finished and stretched herself with difficulty, I found that the men had not been idle. Dried twigs had been spread in the sleigh and these covered with several horse-blankets, the whole forming a comfortable bed. The quickness with which it had been made showed that the Cossacks were used to needing it.
Several Cossacks now lifted the wounded man on to the sleigh with as great care and skill as that possessed by the best trained nurses. They then helped Daria to an especially prepared place by his side. My uncle took the driver's seat, and I, without waiting for invitation or permission, jumped up next to him. Slowly we drove off.
I looked back once or twice to see what those left behind were doing. Some of them hung the tiger to a strong tree, the skin having already been loosened from his legs. Then they carefully cut the thin under skin with their hunting knives and gradually pulled it off from the tail down.
As soon as we arrived at the village, a man was sent on the swiftest horse to be found, to the nearest stannica (an administrative Cossack station) where a doctor was to be found.[12]
It was not until late at night that the doctor arrived. When he had examined the wound, he said: "I can't understand how he has lasted so long with so little help."
"Will he live?" some one asked.
The doctor shook his head. "There's but little chance of that," he said.
But I may as well say here that Mikhailov did live, his wonderful constitution pulling him through. His neck, however, was crippled, his head always inclining toward the left side, and his left arm practically disabled. The accident taught him wisdom, and later he took to hunting again, becoming the most renowned hunter of wolves and bears in our district.