Vermont phÅ“nix. [volume] (Brattleboro, Vt.) 1834-1955, 1885-10-02

good shaking, for gave him one that made
every tooth 10 bis head chatter and then
laid him fat on his back.
had been long enough In the country to
gain some knowledge Of Russian. could
use II pretty freely 10 our mill people and
must own that for terms In which to black
guard a set OF lazy rascals, as most OF these
fellows are, Bilingsgate isn't patch on It.
SO could make my prisoner understand me.
Nov then, my friend, l said TO him, you
needn't take the trouble 10 show any more
fight. You see II won't pay. 80 just get up,
and march quietly OF with me 10 the ouchds-
tOck'-the Ottc6astook being, as you perhaps
know, equivalent to the polce-station in Eng
lish.
But instead of getting up and doing as he
was told like a reasonable being, the creature
contrived TO wriggle itself upon its knees and
to hold up its hands, while 1t begged Of me
in the name Of the Virgin and all the Saints
not to hand II over to the p0Rtstd. II would
| rather be killed outright, and was ready TO be
beaten as much a. pleased.
My ragged friend" l said, you are a
queer chap Why do you object to the police
so strongly"
The poor wretch made no direct answer,
| but only reiterated his entreaties that would
not give him up. l began to have some sus-
picion Of the quality Of my guest. II am in
/ SAAhod " AhAuhf 4 hhiut bhhh gON uip h'ANhNA
more nor less than an escaped convict"
Instead Of attempting to deny it, be only
begged me 10 pity him ss before.
Russian law Ia terribly hard on those who
In any way assist in or conceal the escape of
q convict. or that vas aware. But though
l am big fellow to look OF, and in some
things can hold my own as well as any man,
| have always been a poor, soft-hearted fool
in others. was beginning to feel downright
sorry for that poor dewitt was not so much
his prayers that fetched me as his looks.
well, said, suppose 1 don tgive you up,
but let you go. What then 2"
He would always remember me with graft
tude. He would go on his way at once, and
do no harm to my property He was no
thief. He had only entered this door this
yard-to hide himself, but that the sight OF
| food had overcome him he was famishing,
and he dared not beg. He had walked, how
far he could not tell, perhaps thousand
versts, and all the way he had not dared to
ask for food, scarcely to speak to living
soul. He was trying to reach his own village,
| perhaps thousand versts further. II would
only set him free he would 60 on at once.
That was about the substance Of the fellows
answer. His appearance seemed to bear out
his statements and was inclined TO believe
him. ITS sheer nonsense" said, 'for you
to talk Of setting of for a walk of q thousand
versts, II let you go. You might as well
talk Of flying. You have not the strength to
walk ten. You would only fall by the road
side, you miserable scare.crow and die in a
ditch. l should be doing the kinder thing by
you II handed you over to the authorities
II do let you go, l must give you something
10 eat first Come with me"
The miserable wretch hardly believed that
l meant to feed him. and would have run away
had he dared. l took him into the empty
house, of which had the key, and fetched
him as much food as l thought it safe for him
10 eat.
So there / was, with an escaped convict on
my hands Had l been more prudent, l
should have reflected that the fellow was most
likely hardened scoundrel quite undeserv-
ing Of pity, and that his gratitude would prob
ably be shown either by robbing me or if he
should happen TO fall into the hands of the
police, by getting me into trouble to save his
own worthless neck. fought to have thought
of these things but as said before, l am q
soft-hearted old fool, and neglected TO do SO.
kept him in that empty house for several
days-in fact, till he had SO far recovered his
strength as to be fit to go on. Nobody knew
about him-not even the members of my own
family; for, il was doing foolish thing, 1
had sense enough to run as little risk over it
as possible. Feodor Stepanovitch (for that
my convict told me was his name) enlightened
me on some few points of his personal histo-
ry. His native village was, he said, in the
government Of Vladimer, and he had left il TO
get work in the town of IvanovA, where there
are factories. Every man tries to make ont
good case for himself, so did not feel my
self bound to place implicit reliance on Feo-
doris statement that he had never committed
anything that could properly be called a crime.
According TO his showing, the sole source of
his troubles had been q difference with an Olt-
Uddtlik "a police agent. l do not exactly re-
member the particulars, but of course there
was q woman in the business blows had pass
ed, and the ouUadHik had, by false charge,
procured Feodor's condemnation to Siberia
for life. This, 1 say, was his story.
Feodor told me that his place of exile had
been somewhere far up the country and of
the seventies he had had to endure, and Of
the tyranny Of the officials, he spoke bitterly.
After making his escape, the privations and
dangers he had undergone before reaching
Ekaterinburg were such as l should not have
believed from his words, had they not been
verified by his appearance.
For Russian, he appeared to me TO be a
not unintelligent fellow, and pointed out to
him the difficulties he would encounter in get
ting to IvanovA, distance of not less than
twelve hundred versta from Ekaterinburg, as
the crow flies and advised him, as he was
used to mill work, to stay and find employ
ment where he was. was even weak enough
to offer 10 help him, and see what could be
done in the way of getting passport for him.
But the fellow was bent on going forward.
He was resolved, he said, to see his family
again, and he was resolved to see Basil Maka-
rof. This Makarof was, found, the OuDad-
mix to whom Feodor attributed his troubles,
and II seemed to me that this particular hank
a.. l.
revenge. / confess that when had learned
this much felt no desire 10 detain my friend
Feodor longer than was necessary. l was
glad TO give him something more decent in
the way of clothing than he had brought and
trihe in money to help him on his way, and
TO be rid of him.
l never expected TO see him again, nor de-
sired 10 do 80 and was somewhat startled
when few weeks later among a gang Of
convicts which were being marched by a
guard of soldiers out of the town on their
way eastward, recognized Stepanovitch.
was standing close by when he passed, and
was so much surprised to see him that some
what imprudently, perhaps, spoke to him by
name. But-wiil you believe 1t ?-the un.
grateful dog stared me in the face, and march,
ed sullenly by without word or sign of recog-
milton. 80 much" thought l, ''for graft
tude !"
Some months later, when the next summer
was getting well advanced, we had one night
an alarm Of fire. Many OF the newer mills
at Ekaterinburg are of stone, but the main
building of ours, being comparatively old,
was of wood Il was thing TO blaze up like
box of matches. II was not, however, in
the main building that the fire had broken
out, but In some sheds connected with the
main building by range Of shopping. This
last was stone-built, but, as luck would have
Il, covered with wooden shingles.
A good many people were soon got togeth-
or, mostly our own hands, and l directed and
encouraged them as we'll as l could to get the
fire under. But they were a stolid, heavy set
Of fellows, those Russians, and the way in
which they take care not to over-exert them
selves at fire is enough to drive an English
man wild. Yet there were some few who
worked well, and one fellow in particular, l
noticed-a ragged fellow, beggar took him
to be-who really worked splendidly, and in
9 way that ought to have made many of those
whose daily bread depended on the existence
of the mill ashamed Of themselves.
What between the apathy of those lazy
sooundrels generally, and want of water, It
was soon plain that the sheds which were al
ready on fire could not be saved, and that
what we must look 10 was the mill itself. The
danger Of the main building was increasing
g. a