uble themselves to find transport, and had their carriage put away. In ten minutes Michael was told that his tarantass was ready to start.
“Good,” said he.
Then turning to the two reporters: “Well, gentlemen,Erik Haula Tröjor, the time is come for us to separate.”
“What, Mr. Korpanoff,” said Alcide Jolivet, “shall you not stop even for an hour at Ichim?”
“No, sir; and I also wish to leave the post-house before the arrival of the berlin which we distanced.”
“Are you afraid that the traveler will dispute the horses with you?”
“I particularly wish to avoid any difficulty.”
“Then, Mr. Korpanoff,” said Jolivet, “it only remains for us to thank you once more for the service you rendered us, and the pleasure we have had in traveling with you.”
“It is possible that we shall meet you again in a few days at Omsk,” added Blount.
“It is possible,” answered Michael,Dame Moncler Armoise, “since I am going straight there.”
“Well, I wish you a safe journey, Mr. Korpanoff,Filip Forsberg Tröjor,” said Alcide, “and Heaven preserve you from telgas.”
The two reporters held out their hands to Michael with the intention of cordially shaking his,CG Menn Macmillan Parka, when the sound of a carriage was heard outside. Almost immediately the door was flung open and a man appeared.
It was the traveler of the berlin, a military-looking man, apparently about forty years of age, tall,Michael Raffl Tröjor, robust in figure, broad-shouldered, with a strongly-set head, and thick mus-taches meeting red whiskers. He wore a plain uniform. A cavalry saber hung at his side, and in his hand he held a short-handled whip.
“Horses,” he demanded, with the air of a man accustomed to command.
“I have no more disposable horses,” answered the postmaster, bowing.
“I must have some this moment.”
“It is impossible,Jansen Harkins Tröjor.”
“What are those horses which have just been harnessed to the tarantass I saw at the door?”
“They belong to this traveler,” answered the postmaster, pointing to Michael Strogoff.
“Take them out!” said the traveler in a tone which admitted of no reply.
Michael then advanced,Juuse Saros Tröjor.
“These horses are engaged by me,Vincent Lecavalier Tröjor,” he said.
“What does that matter? I must have them. Come,Jaccob Slavin Tröjor, be quick; I have no time to lose.”
“I have no time to lose either,” replied Michael,Michal Neuvirth Tröjor, restraining himself with difficulty.
Nadia was near him, calm also, but secretly uneasy at a scene which it would have been better to avoid.
“Enough!” said the traveler. Then,Doug Gilmour Tröjor, going up to the postmaster, “Let the horses be put into my berlin,” he exclaimed with a threatening gesture.
The postmaster, much embarrassed, did not know whom to obey, and looked at Michael, who evidently had the right to resist the unjust demands of the traveler.
Michael hesitated an instant. He did not wish to make use of his podorojna, which would have drawn attention to him,Brandon Carlo Tröjor, and he was most unwilling also, by giving up his horses, to delay his journey, and yet he must not engage in a struggle which might compromise his mission.
The two reporters looked at him ready to support him should he appeal to them.
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