“‘We never calculate the risk when a brother requires our help,’ he replied, taking my arm. ‘He who went about doing good, and died for our sakes, taught us that lesson, with many others, which we are too apt to forget. Say, therefore, no more about it, my son, but lay thee down and rest till thy strength has returned, and thou canst prosecute thy journey with renewed hope and confidence.’
“I could not resist old Sidor’s pressing, and, with a satisfaction I can scarcely describe, I threw myself on his bed, and in an instant was asleep. My sleep, however, was feverish and troubled. I had felt ill before I reached his cottage, and now, when I awoke, I found a raging fever on me. How long I had slept I know not. Old Sidor was by my side. There he sat, day after day, and night after night, tending me with as much care as a father would an only son. Several weeks I thus lay, hovering between life and death. Oftentimes my old friend told me that he was inclined to summon a leech to see me, but, if he did so, he was afraid that I might be betrayed, and delivered into the hands of our enemies. He besought, therefore, with much earnestness and prayer, the great Physician of our souls, that He would, in His abundant mercy, heal me. Surely such prayers are not in vain. In a short time the fever left me, and my strength rapidly returned. I had been out of the hut more than once to ramble through the woods, but was yet, I fancied, unfit to prosecute my journey. I lay on the bed while Sidor sat by my side reading that book which was seldom out of our hands—the Book of Life, when we saw through the open doorway his little grandson running in haste towards the hut. He entered too much out of breath to speak; in his hand he bore a feather, which he held out towards me. I took it in my hand; it was from the wing of a bird. I guessed in a moment what it betokened—so did Sidor.
“‘Our foes have discovered your retreat, and this is sent by a brother to bid you flee.’
“The boy nodded, and waved his hand hurriedly towards the door. I threw my arms for a moment on the neck of my old friend.
“‘Keep straight on the way I showed you yesterday, till you come to a tree scathed and blasted by lightning. To the right of it is a thicket; on the farther side, midway down it, you will find some dried brambles; remove them, and you will perceive a narrow passage. Half-way down it the ground beneath your feet will sound hollow. On your right hand, by bending aside the boughs, you will discover a further pile of brambles, which appear to have been thrown there by chance. Draw them aside, and there will be found a cavity; enter without hesitation, drawing the brambles over your head. You will find there provisions for several days, and a couch on which to rest your yet unpractised limbs. Many a fugitive brother has there found shelter for weeks together. Farewell, my son; Heaven guard you; you have not a moment to lose.’
“These words he uttered as rapidly as possible, yet it was necessary to be precise, to enable me to find the spot capable of concealing me. Again embracing him, I darted from the hut in the direction he indicated as fast as my legs, long unaccustomed to rapid movement, would carry me. Once I looked back on hearing a shout; I could just distinguish between the trees several men, some on horseback, approaching the hut. For an instant I gave myself up for lost, yet I continued my flight. I found soon that I was not followed, then I trembled for the fate of my old friend. If he is accused of having harboured a fugitive like me, and cannot give an account of me, the knout and Siberia will be his fate. I felt inclined to turn back, but then I remembered that I should only the more certainly bring ruin on him, by proving him guilty of the crime.
“‘Alas! Alas!’ I cried, ‘is it my fate to injure those who benefit me?’ I had little time for thought, though. I must hurry on; my pursuers might soon be on my track. I began to fear that my destination was suspected at the settlement, and that notice of my flight had been sent along the road before me. Perhaps even at the very end of my journey I might be seized, and sent a prisoner to Siberia.
“Still, as long as I could, I resolved to struggle on, and trust to God’s mercy. This thought gave strength to my feet. On I went in a direct line towards the scathed pine of which Sidor had told me. I was too long accustomed to the marks on the trees, imperceptible to ordinary eyes, to be led to diverge from my course. There was an open glade, and the tree stood before me on the other side. I hurried across the glade, and had nearly reached the farther side, when I heard a shout, and saw several horsemen emerging from the shade of the trees. The thicket was before me. I darted round it, and at once saw the bramble which marked the entrance to the narrow passage. To creep under the brambles and to run along the passage was the work of a moment. The shouts of the horsemen grew louder and louder. Had I not known of the passage I should not have had a chance of escape. I searched with beating heart for the hollow ground. My foot discovered it by the sound. I removed the branches and the bundle of brambles, and crept into a hole, drawing them again over me. I found there was space before me, so I crept on. As I began to move, I judged by the sound of their voices that the horsemen had reached the thicket.
“‘I saw him near about here, to a certainty,’ said one; ‘he cannot be far from this.’
“‘We will unearth him, the impious rebel, if he is hid near here,’ exclaimed another.