As their disordered troop crossed the Terek, the waters of which are very rapid, a young Tchetchen’s horse broke down in the middle of the river and was immediately carried away by the waves. Ivan, who was following him, urged his horse into the current, at the risk of being carried off himself, and, seizing the young man just when he was disappearing beneath the water, succeeded in bringing him to the opposite shore. The Cossacks, who, favoured by the dawning day, recognized him by his uniform and “furazhka,”[14] aimed at him, shouting: “Deserter! catch the deserter!” His clothes were riddled with bullets. At last, after fighting desperately and firing all his cartridges, he returned to the village with the glory of having saved the life of one of his companions, and been of service to the whole troop.
If his conduct on this occasion did not win over to him the minds of all, it gained him at least one friend; the young man whom he had saved adopted him for his “kunakh” (a sacred title which the Caucasian mountaineers never violate), and swore to defend him against every one. But this intimacy was not sufficient to shelter him from the hatred of the principal inhabitants. The courage which he had just shown, and his attachment to his master, increased the fears with which he had inspired them. They could no longer regard him as a buffoon incapable of any enterprise, as they had done until then; and, when they considered the abortive expedition in which he had taken part, they wondered how Russian troops had happened to be at the right moment in a spot so far from their usual haunts, and suspected that he had had the means of warning them. Although this conjecture was without any real foundation, they watched him more closely. Old Ibrahim himself, fearing some plot for the escape of his prisoners, no longer allowed them to engage in continued conversation, and the honest denshchik was threatened, sometimes even beaten, when he tried to talk to his master.
In this situation, the two prisoners contrived a means of conversing without arousing their keeper’s suspicions. As they were in the habit of singing Russian songs together, the major would take his guitar when he had anything important to communicate to Ivan in Ibrahim’s presence, and sing while he questioned him: the latter answered in the same manner, and his master accompanied him with his guitar. As this arrangement was by no means a novelty, nobody ever noticed a trick which besides they took the precaution to practise only on rare occasions.
More than three months had passed since the unfortunate expedition which has been mentioned, when Ivan fancied that he noticed an unusual disturbance in the village. Some mules loaded with powder had arrived in the plain. The men were cleaning their arms and preparing their cartridges. He soon learnt that a great expedition was on foot. The whole nation was to unite to attack a neighbouring tribe who had put themselves under the protection of the Russians, and had allowed them to build a redoubt on their territory. It was a question of nothing less than exterminating the whole tribe, as well as the Russian battalion which was protecting the building of the fort.
A few days later, Ivan, leaving the hut one morning, found the village deserted. All the men able to bear arms had gone during the night. In the visit which he made to the village to seek news, he obtained fresh proofs of the evil intentions they had against him. The old men avoided talking to him. A little boy told him openly that his father wanted to kill him. Finally, when he was returning very thoughtfully to his master, he saw on the roof of a house a young woman who raised her veil, and, with an appearance of the greatest terror, made signs to him to escape, pointing out the road to Russia; it was the sister of the Tchetchen whom he had saved at the crossing of the Terek.
When he re-entered the house, he found the old man engaged in inspecting Kaskambo’s fetters. A newcomer was seated in the room: it was a man whom an intermittent fever had prevented from accompanying his comrades and who had been sent to Ibrahim to augment the prisoners’ guard till the inhabitants returned. Ivan noticed this precaution without evincing the least surprise. The absence of the men of the village presented a favourable opportunity for the execution of his plans; but the more active vigilance of their keeper, and above all the presence of the fever patient, made success very uncertain. However, his death would be inevitable if he awaited the return of the inhabitants; he foresaw that their expedition would be unsuccessful and that their rage would not spare him. No resource remained for him except either to desert his master or to deliver him immediately. The faithful servant would have died a thousand deaths rather than choose the former alternative.
Kaskambo, who was beginning to lose all hope, had fallen for some time into a kind of stupor, and maintained a profound silence. Ivan, more calm and cheerful than usual, surpassed himself in preparing the meal, and while he did it he sang Russian songs, which he interspersed with words of encouragement to his master.
“The time has come,” he said, adding to each sentence the meaningless refrain of a popular Russian song, “hey lully, hey lully, the time has come to end our misery or to perish. To-morrow, hey lully, we shall be on the way to a town, a pretty town, hey lully, which I will not name. Courage, master! don’t let yourself lose heart. The God of the Russians is great.”
Kaskambo, indifferent alike to life and death, not knowing his denshchik’s plan, contented himself with answering: “Do what you like, and be silent.” Towards evening the fever patient, whom they had entertained bountifully in order to detain him, and who, besides the good meal he had made, had amused himself for the rest of the day with eating “shashlyk,”[15] was seized with such a violent fit of fever, that he left the company and withdrew to his own home. They let him go without much difficulty, Ivan having entirely reassured the old man by his gaiety. The more to remove any kind of suspicion, he retired early to the back of the room and lay down on a bench against the wall, until Ibrahim should fall asleep; but the latter had resolved to stay awake all night. Instead of lying down on the mat by the fire, as he generally did, he sat down on a log opposite his prisoner, and sent away his daughter-in-law, who withdrew to the next room, where her child was, and shut the door after her.
From the dark corner where he had settled himself, Ivan looked attentively at the scene before him. In the light of the fire which flared up from time to time, an axe glittered in a recess of the wall. The old man, overcome by drowsiness, let his head fall at times on his breast. Ivan saw that the time had come, and stood up. The suspicious gaoler noticed it immediately. “What are you doing there?” he asked sharply. Ivan, instead of replying, drew near the fire, yawning like a man waking from a deep sleep. Ibrahim, who himself felt his eyelids growing heavy, ordered Kaskambo to play the guitar to keep him awake. The latter refused, but Ivan handed him the instrument, at the same time making the sign arranged. “Play, master,” he said, “I have something to say to you.” Kaskambo tuned the instrument, and, beginning to sing, they commenced the terrible duet which follows.