Nathan was conscious of traveling down a far, far slope. He marveled how the men knew their way in that fog. The slope seemed miles long before they reached the valley bottom. Then he realized the cavalcade was taking its course from the depression in the hills. But the horses walked. The hysteria of the crime which had been consummated burned itself out.
Several horsemen trotted alongside and howled questions at Nat in their native tongue. Over and over the young man had to protest he did not understand. Finally when they stopped once in that labyrinth of mist, Nathan demanded of the Cossack:
“Where are you taking me?”
“Beeg commandant! You see! Stop talk!”
“What for?”
“You have come from Petrograd! To answer question! I say stop talk!”
“And what then?”
“Ah! We see how good you answer question!”
IV
Due southward they bore—if Nathan kept sense of direction. It was uncanny how these horses found their footing in that fog. The ride became a nightmare in which huge bearded demons rode with him. Hour after hour it seemed to continue. Then far ahead, lights gleamed fantastic through the mist. They were approaching a settlement, back from the railroad.