Shamarin took the bundle that contained her supplies—Sandoff assuming charge of the other package—and then at their top speed the little party of three crossed the Kara by the bridge of stepping stones, and headed due east across the valley. Its level surface—barely two miles wide—was crossed in safety, and after ascending the range of low foothills, the fugitives turned to the south and followed the line of the ridge. The wisdom of Shamarin’s plan now became apparent, for but little snow had forced its way through the young timber, and they were able to travel rapidly. The successive settlements were passed at a distance. Twice the crisp air bore to the fugitives the muffled tramp of hoofs, but the sounds remained at a distance and finally faded away.
At length, about two o’clock in the morning, as near as could be guessed, the lights of Ust Kara, the settlement nearest to the mouth of the river, showed them that the first stage of their journey was nearly at an end. They felt no fatigue. Even Vera had indignantly refused her brother’s offer of assistance, and in spite of the bitter cold they were all fairly warm from the brisk speed at which they had been traveling.
Presently the ridge began to slope downward until they were on level ground; and after crossing a belt of pine forest, less than half a mile wide, they emerged on a low bluff and the River Shilka was below them. For a moment they contemplated the scene in silence, and not without some dread, for the pale glow of the moon showed the river to be clogged with huge cakes of ice, whirling down stream with a great grinding and crashing, while each shore was frozen solidly for a distance of some yards from the bank.
“It will be perilous work,” muttered Shamarin to himself, “perilous work!” Then he said aloud, “Well, now for the next step. In what direction is that to be? Up stream or down?”
“Down, I think,” replied Vera. “We are hardly a mile from the Kara as yet. The house must be close at hand, though.”
“Down it is, then,” said Shamarin. He led the way to the beach and thence along the snow covered pebbles, until, on rounding a sharp bluff, the fugitives caught sight of a tiny cabin standing near the water’s edge, in the shadow of a clump of pine trees.
Shamarin crept forward alone to investigate, and presently came back with a joyful face.
“All right,” he announced; “no one is stirring in the cabin, and I have found the boat. Follow me with as little noise as possible.”
The boat was lying in a rude covered shed within a yard or two of the river, and had not been used for so long a time that its keel was frozen tight. The united efforts of the two men freed it, and then they began to drag it over the intervening section of beach, very slowly and cautiously, for the cabin was not ten yards away. When they got it on the belt of firm ice it moved more easily, and they pushed it forward, sounding each step of the way until it was almost on the edge of the whirling black water. The boat was apparently in good condition, and had three seats, one in the middle and one at each end. The owner had probably used it to ferry passengers across the river.
Then Sandoff went back to the shed, and returned with two long, iron pointed boat hooks and a pair of paddles.