“Master,” said Ivan, “I have done something very wrong!”
“May God forgive us it!” answered Kaskambo, crossing himself.
“Yes,” continued Ivan, “I have forgotten to bring away that fine carbine which was in the child’s room. What could you expect? It never entered my mind: you were groaning so up there, and making such a noise, that I forgot it. You’re laughing, are you? It was the best carbine there was in the whole village. I would have made a present of it to the first man we met, to put him on our side: for I don’t know how, in the state I see you are in, we can finish our march.”
The weather, which till then had favoured them, changed during the day. The cold Russian wind blew violently, and drove sleet in their faces. They set out at nightfall, uncertain whether they should try to reach some villages, or to avoid them. But the long stage which remained for them to travel, supposing the latter, became absolutely impossible for them owing to a fresh misfortune which befell them towards the end of the night. As they were crossing a little ravine, over the remains of snow which covered its bottom, the ice broke under their feet, and they were plunged in water up to the knees. Kaskambo’s efforts to extricate himself made his garments wetter than ever. Since the time when they set out, the cold had never been so keen; the whole country-side was white with sleet. After walking for a quarter of an hour, seized by the cold, he fell, through weariness and pain, and absolutely refused to go any farther. Seeing the impossibility of reaching the goal of his journey, he considered it a useless barbarity to detain his companion, who could easily escape by himself.
“Listen, Ivan,” he said, “God is my witness that I have done all I could up till now to take advantage of the help you have given me, but you see that it can no longer save me, and that my fate is sealed. Go on to the line, my dear Ivan, return to our regiment; I command you. Say to my old friends and to my superior officers that you have left me here to feed the ravens, and that I wish them a better fate. But, before you go, recollect the oath which you made up yonder in the blood of our gaolers. You swore that the Tchetchens should not recapture me alive: keep your word.”
So saying, he lay down on the ground, and covered himself completely with his burka.
“There is one resource left,” Ivan answered; “it is to seek the dwelling of a Tchetchen and to win over its master with promises. If he betrays us, we shall at least have less with which to reproach ourselves. Try again to drag yourself so far; or else,” he added, seeing that his master kept silence, “I will go alone, and try to win over a Tchetchen; and, if it turns out well, I will return with him to fetch you; if badly, if I perish and do not come back, here, take the pistol.”
Kaskambo stretched out a hand from under the burka and took the pistol. Ivan covered him with dry grass and brushwood for fear he should be discovered by anyone during his excursion. As he prepared to go, his master called him back. “Ivan,” he said, “hear again my last request. If you recross the Terek, and if you see my mother again without me ...”
“Master,” Ivan interrupted, “good-bye for the present. If you perish, neither your mother nor mine will ever see me again.”
After an hour’s walk, he saw from a small eminence two villages three or four versts distant; that was not what he sought; he wanted to find an isolated house, which he could enter without being seen, to win over its master secretly. The distant smoke of a chimney discovered to him one such as he desired. He at once betook himself thither, and entered without hesitation. The master of the house was sitting on the ground, engaged in patching one of his boots.