Rensselaer Union, Volume 8, Number 4, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 14 October 1875 — HARD PRESSED. [ARTICLE]

HARD PRESSED.

AN ADVENTURE WITH WOLVES IN RUSSIA. “Stop, gospodin, stop! In the name of the blessed Panagia, rein up and hear me! You will be glad to have hearkened, English Lord!’.’ The crisp, shining snow crackled beneath the hurrying feet of the speaker as, panting and breathless, he came bursting through the brushwood, and emerged from the pine-copse into the road, not a pistolshot from the two pillars of red granite brought from the Ural that decorated the extremity of the avenue leading to the country-house hard by. With some difficulty the driver, of the sledge—a tall, manly young fellow, whose fair hair and ruddy cheeks contrasted forcibly with the swarthy sallowness and black elflocks of the Russian moujik who had thussuddenly accosted him—brought the fiery horses to a check. “ Why, Isaac, my good friend,” he said, smiling, “what news have you for me that brooks no delay in the telling? Has some bear killed a man, and does nobody dare to traverse the forest road until I settle scores with Bruin, with the aid of a brace of leaden pills from the big rifle? Or have you been so unfortunate as to be again at a misunderstanding with the gendarmes? If so, I ” “ Excellency,” interrupted the man, with a vehement earnestness which made itself felt, “I am here to-day to pay a debt. We Russians have a memory tenacious of kindness, and the poor vagabond, Isaac Paulovitch, has not forgotten that but for your intercession he would have tasted, before this, of the black bread and the knotted thong in Jitomir jail. I’ve run, to-day, nineteen versts through the snow to warn you that the foreigner and the gentleman who travels the Yasilkof road this night carries his life in his hand. I knew you to be on a visit at the Baron’s, yonder. He's in no danger, but woe to every castle from the Dnieper ferry to Boguslaw and Skudra, for they will be, one and all, in a lightwftmue before moonriSe!”

“There iS a rising, then, among the serfs?” asked the young Englishman, eagerly. “ There is,” answered the man called Isaac, with a nod. “ The people of twenty villages have sworn the great oath on the Gospels to root out all these Sobieskis and J agellons, and the rest of the unbaptized Polish counts and princes that wring the withers of the poor.” “ Go you mean Count Nicholas Galitzin, of Czerngorod?” asked the young man, growing pale as he spoke. “That do I,” replied the moujik. “A heavy account Jjt&’ll have to settle, the proud ” But before the sentence was concluded the young Englishman had slackened the reins of his impatient steeds, which darted oil'at once like arrows from the bow, and, to the ineffable surprise of the garrulous Isaac, the whole equipage rapidly disappeared along the road leading to the very district to which his warning had reference. In the course of a three-years’ residence in Southern Russia Edgar Marston, who was manager of the Land Bank at Vasilkof—a post of trust to which he had been appointed through the influence of relatives of his, wealthy members of the British Guild of merchants at St. Petersburg—had gained a-thorough insight into the condition of the province in which he lived and knew the bitter hate which the Kuthenian peasants entertained toward the land-owners, most of whom were Polish nobles who had won their estates when Poland was a wide-spreading Kingdom. He knew, too, that Count Galitzip was personally obnoxious to his late vassals. for a hundred arbitrary acts and petty exactions, and he trembled lest lie should not reach the lonely manor-house

in time to give warning to its inmates of the approaching peril. “And Anniette is there!” said the young man to himself half unconsciously, as he encouraged the mettled horses to do their best. Yes, that was the secret of Edgar Marston’s eagerness to give timely notice of the coming storm to those beneath the jpof of the Galitzin castle. He had fallen deeply in love with the Count’s young and pretty daughter—the Countess Anniette, as she was called, in compliance with that courtly Russian rule which bestows titles on all the members of an aristocratic family—and he knew that his love was reciprocated. He had, indeed, been formerly on terms of intimacy with Count Galitzin’s household, although, on proposing himself as a suitor for Anniette’s hand, he had been met by a decided refusal.

Count Galitzin, whose large but ill-cul-tivatede state lay on the bank of the Borysthenes, but a few miles from Vasilkof, and who owed money to the financial corporation of which Marston was the representative, had other views-for liisdaughter than to bestow her on a young foreigner who was neither rich nor- titled, and the visits of Edgar, formerly a welcome guest at Czerngorod, had for some time wholly ceased. He was, however, aware that Anniette, with her parents, had for several weeks been residing at the chateau, and his first impulse was to hurry thither and preserve her whom he loved from the blind vengeance of the half-bar-barous serfs now on the eve of revolting. The short winter’s day was nearly spent, and when Edgar reached the outskirts of the village of Czerngorod the sun had sunk beneath the black screen of sullen pine trees that marked the boundary of the forest; while through those trees glared an ominous, ruddy light, and shouts, shots and a roar as of an excited crowd came confusedly to the ear. “ Heaven help them"! the castle must be already on fire!” exclaimed the young man, as he saw a tall column of smoke, streaked by- fiery showers of sparks and burning flakes, rise high in the air. “ What, by this, may be the fate of those within?” l His apprehensions were, however, destined to be promptly relieved, since, as he drove past the low boundary-fence of the Count’s gardens, he heard his name called and saw Anniette Galitzin herself come running toward him from amidst the darkling clumps of shrubs. Her dark hair was hanging loosely over her shoulders and her little feet, in their dainty Paris shoes, sank at every step in the deep snow, making it evident that, in her alarm, she had darted forth from the burning manor-house, having merely time to snatch up the short, hooded cloak, lined and trimmed with costly fur, which she wore. ’ “Mr. Marston—Edgar!” she exclaimed, with a terrific earnestness, “ oh, pray save me! Take me with you before they seek me out to kill me. I feel half dead, already, at the very sound of their savage shout and trampling feet. Papa, thank Heaven, is safe at Vasilkof, where he and my dear mother went but yesterday, leaving me here alone with the German governess ; and, when the peasants broke in, Mdlle. Herzen thought of nothing but her own safety and fled into the woods, and

By this time Marston had sprung to the ground, fastened the. reins to a projecting bough, and by a vigorous effort had succeeded in tearing away a portion of the illkept fence, so as y to establish a gap through which a slender figure might pass. Yet a minute, and Anniette was seated beside him in the sledge, speeding rapidly away from the pillaged castle. The road, -which had hitherto traversed a cultivated district, at this point plunged into a dreary tract of forest land, so that the black pine trees soon barred out the light of the dying day, and little could be seen except the white snow that gleamed from between their boles. A chilly breeze sprang up, and the evening grew perceptibly colder; but the sledge was well provided with wraps, and Edgar was careful to draw a heavy furred pelisse around the trembling form of the young Countess, while, infond and so otlimg words, he strove to calm her agitated nerves. She was safe. Within an hour or two he should be able to place her. on their arrival at Vasilkof, under the care of her parents, and that before the alarm of the revolt of the serfs should have spread itself. The horses went well; the distance was trifling, and — What interrupted Edgar’s speech was a fierce, snarling cry, accompanied by the quick pattering of feet among the withered leaves and the snow, and then a longdrawn whining howl, that seemed to issue from fifty throats, while dark objects began to glide, phantom-like, between the trees.

“ Wolves! wolves!” cried Anniette with a shriek of terror, but already the affrighted horses had set off at a mad gallop, swerving from side to side of the road in a manner that threatened to.upset the sledge. Again there burst forth that horrid cry; and Marston exerted his skill and strength in maintaining a mastery over the snorting horses Anniette, looking fearfully back, announced the unwelcome tidings that they were pursued. “ You must be cool, dearest one, now, for both our sakes—for mine,” -said the young Englishman, as he cast a glance at the dark specks dotting the snow. “ You can drive well, I know. Only keep the horses to the road and all will yet be well.”

As the young Countess took the reins Edgar stooped for his trusty rifle, and leveled it with deliberate ajun at the foremost wolf, now bounding far befo: e the rest. The huge brilte rolled over on the crimsoned snow with a cry of rage and pain that was answered by the yell of the hurrying pack; and then succeeded a hideous medley of confused sounds, followed by a period of silence. “Hake they given up the pursuit?” asked Anniette, w r ith white lips, as Marston reloaded his piece. “No, no!” answered the young man, shaking his head. “The creatures have but paused, as is their custom, to devour their wounded comrade. It is but an instant’s breathing-time which ” lie fired both barrels as lie spoke into the thick of the advancing pack. Then ensued a terrible contest of speed between the gallant horses, wild with fear, and the wily and savage denizens of the Russian woods. Four more shots from Edgar’s rifle brought down as many wolves, but they were now too near and too eager in their ravenous fury to be beaten off. The winding of the road, too, enabled some of the leaders of the pkcfc to gain upon the fastflying sledge, and, with a rare audacity, to endeavor to overleap its sides, while Edgar, flinging down the jpm, slashed at the broad paws and hairy throats with the keen blade of his heavy hunting-knife, and succeeded, though with difficulty, in disabling the two foreifiost of the assailants. The third,slightly hurt, slunk howling away; hut a few yards in the rear the clamor pf the remainder of the ffferqe drove told how ruthlessly the chase was maintained.

“ There is but one thing to be done,” muttered Edgar Marston, with a groan, as he cast a despairing glance along the road and noted that already two of the gaunt pursuers were nearly abreast of the sledge;. “Vasilkof, as I reckon, is but three versts from this, but before we cover the two miles that lie • between us and safety, yonder yelling brutes will drag down our horses and have us at their mercy. At any cost Anniette must be saved and the wolves delayed.” He rose to his feet as he spoke and looked to right and left. Close to the roadside on the left grew a mighty beech tree. Could he set his back to that tree, kill or cripple the first of the furious wolves, ana swing himself up among the lower branches, out of reach of the others, he might have yet a chance of life, while the sledge would gain so much vantageground that it could not be easily overtaken. Yes, the desperate venture must be risked. Hastily the young man kissed niette’s cold cheek, and, bidding her be of good cheer, since he had devised a stratagem that would outwit the wolves, he struck the straining horses sharply with the whip; and, with his hunting-knife between his teeth, took a clear leap over the low brushwood, and fell on his hands and knees at the foot of the beech tree.

“Edgar! Edgar!” cried the agonized girl, as vainly she expended her strength in the effort to rein in the terrified horses. On they went like the wind, while the clamor of the exulting wolves told that they had desisted from the chase to crowd around an easy prey. Goaded by terror the horses flew along the narrow road, which fortunately at this part of its course became straighter than it had hitherto been, and the light sledge was hurried along as if it had been*a feather-weight over the frozen snow. A whirl of confused thoughts passed through the girl’s brain as with relentless speed the sledge darted on, farther and farther from the spot where Edgar Marsston had sprung out to confront what appeared to be inevitable death. “ For me! for me!” Anniette murmured, as, after a last despairing effort to rein in the unmanageable steeds, she cast a glance back at the white road, now gleaming, as the sledge emerged from the woodland into the open country in the first rays of the newly-risen moon. Of the dread pursuers she now saw and heard nothing, but she shuddered as the remembrance forced itself upon her ot the probable cause of the disappearance of the wolves. Her lover—could she doubt it?—had purchased her safety with his own blood. Their four-footed foes had been too many for mortal valor to have prevailed in the unequal contest against their numbers. She was safe—safe—for now she was among fields and •ultivated lands again, out of the gloomy forest, and there before her lay Vasilkof, the moonbeams gleaming on the burnished copper domes of its churches; but she scarcely realized the fact of her own escape, so busy was her fancy with the peril of him whom she loved.

The scared horses needed no urging to strain every sinew in the race as, snorting and gasping for breath, they dashed into the wide, straggling, main street of Yasilkof. In the spacious market-place or public square of the town a crowd had collected, in the midst of which the light of a number of torches fell on glistening bayonets of steel and the bright brass mountings of military accoutrements. A column of the flat-capped, gray-coated infantry of the Russian line was preparing to march, while a cavalry escort encompassed two or three carriages mounted on sledge-runners, and to each of which three or more horses had been harnessed. Sundry persons in authority, as their civil or military uniforms denoted, were bustling to and fro, some mounted and others on foot, while the drums rolled and the trumpets of the Cossacks sent their shrill summons through the streets as though to call the laggards who yet lingered to the muster. “ Halt, there! halt, 1 say!” called out a sentinel, roughly, as the sledge that bore Anniette swept like a whirlwind across the market-place, scattering to right and left in dismay all who barred its frantic course. And then followed a babel of loud outcries of surprise, alarm and pity; for the picture that was then presented to the gazers in the ruddy glare of the torchlight was not one readily to be forgotten. In the sledge, still mechanically grasping the reins, sat the terror-stricken girl, her face white and rigid, her dark hair streaming loose, for the furred hood of her mantle had fallen back and her beautiful head was uncovered.

Among those who had been present when the sledge crossed the square had been the old Count and Couiftess Galitzin. They had recognized their daughter’s pallid face as she was hurried past, and within a few moments the half-fainting girl was in the arms of her parents and surrounded by friends and well-wishers, who seemed disposed to welcome her as one risen from the dead. “We were about to set out for Czergorod,” the Count explained, when Anniette appeared to be sensible to her mother’s caresses and endearing words, “with the escort with which the kindness of His Excellency the Governor had provided us, hoping—but hardly daring to hope, my lamb—that you would have been spared in the first outbreak of the fury of thosg, serfs, of which the news reached us but an hour ago. Troops are about to march for the scene of the revolt, but, since you are safe —though through what marvelous piece of good fortune I cannot conjecture ”' “It w r as through no such fortune,” interrupted Anniette piteously; ‘‘it was his life—his gallant, noble life, dearer to me than my own, that he gave to save me—wretched me! Yes, I am safe, but at what a price!’” And here a darkness came before her eyes, and her voice failed, as she sank fainting into the arms of her mother; but soon, as if nerved by the recollection of her lover’s danger, she'roused herself to tell, in broken accents, what had occurred, to indicate the place, where she left him, and to implore tliatrescue might besentthither without delay. Like wildfire the news flew through the crowd, for the whole population of vasilkof had collected in the streets, and women wept and men grew pale at the while the exclamation of bystanders* evinced the horror, admiration and sym-< paihy which Edgar Marston’s intrepid self-devotion had evoked. The young English manager of the Land Bank was popular in the town, and even had he been a stranger the deed he had done would have sufficed to raise him to the rank of a hero. But, ready and willing to render assistance as were all who heard the story, the most sanguine could not venture to express a hope that aid could' arrive in time to be of service to him. In spite of these dismal forebodings it was determined that not an ifistant should be lost in carrying help to Edgar Marston, if human help could indeed avail; and about thirty gentlemen, some in sledges

and others on horseback, set off at a rapid pace, escorted by twice as many of the mounted Cossacks, the Governor having decided to delay the marching of the column until tidings should arrive as to Edgar’s fate. The distance was rapidly traversed, and as the exploring party entered the forest a wild, mournful sound came floating on the night wind. , “They are there yet, the pack of them,” cried old Baron Jageilon, spurring his horse and handling his gun. “Push on and let us pepper some of their gray hides, at any rate.” „

But wolves are cunning as well as fierce and when the rescuers came in sight of the great beech tree around the foot of which the pack had gathered, howling and whining over some object at first indistinctly visible, their querulous cry changed into a note of alarm, and they huddled themselves together among the chestnuts and birches, with their bushy tails drooping and their bright eyes shining through the darkness like points of flame. An irregular discharge of musketry succeeded, while the Cossacks lowered their lances and dashed forward with their shrill “Hurrah!” as though charging against human foes. Neither lance nor bulletdid execution among the wolves, who, fairly cowed, slunk off into the recesses of the woods, while the headmost horseman checked his wiry steed but just in time to prevent horse and rider from falling headlong into a deep but narrow pit dug at the foot of the huge beech tree. “Holy St. Sophia of Kiew! Blessed St. Stephen of the Steppes! What wizard’s work have we here?” exclaimed the soldier as he wheeled his horse. “My name isn’t Dimitri if I did not hear a groan from out yonder open grave!” “Grave, forsooth!” returned Baron Jageilon, hastily dismounting; “it is a bear-trap, such as peasants set in likely spots near where the honey of some swarm of the wild bees that dwell inhollow trees is sure to tempt Bruin to the pitfall. And, as I live,” he added, after listening for a moment, “ there is some one down there, and alive—young Marston, for a thousand gold eagles!” And when, by means of a rope hastily constructed by linking together stirrupleathers and buff-belts, a Cossack was lowered into the pit the truth of this conjecture was confirmed, for Edward Marston, pale, livid and exhausted, but to all appearances unhurt save for a bruise upon his right temple, was drawn forth from it. The bystanders crowded round him, but •fie was faint and weak, and it was not until he had swallowed a portion of the fiery com brandy from the Baron’s hunting flask that he was able to speak. Edgar’s story when he was able to tell it was a simple one, and had already been anticipated by the matured sylvan experience of the Baron. When he sprang from the sledge it had been with a full conviction that he was about to save Anniette’s life at the sacrifice of his own. He had, however, made a desperate effort to reach the great beech tree, in the poor hope that by setting his back against it and making vigorous use of his hunting-knife hemigkt gain time to grasp one of the lower boughs and draw himself up beyond the reach of the wolves. But to his consternation the treacherous surface on which he alighted, and which was composed of rotten branches coated with moss and dried leaves, gave wav beneath his feet and he was precipitated into the narrow pit below, receiving as he fell a blow on the head from a' projecting stake which stunned him for a moment; and when he recovered his senses it was to hear the furious yelping and howling of the disappointed wolves that raged around the brink of his prison, and to see by the uncertain light their lolling tongues and gnashing teeth, as they bent over the edge and vainly tried to seize the prey beneath them. The tale is told. The prejudices which had iriHuced the Count and Countess Galitzin to object to Edgar as a suitor for their daughter’s hand melted like snow in tlie sun when their hearts were touched by the generous self-sacrifice of the gallant young man, whose praises were on every lip.— Cassell's Magazine.