The Republican. [volume] (Oakland, Md.) 1877-current, 1885-10-24

solved, he said, to see his family again.
and he was resolved to see Basil Maka1-pff
This Makarof was, found, the olu0dtak
to whom Feodor attributed his troubles,
and it seemed to me that this particular
hankering to see this person meant crag-
ing to have his revenge. | confess tbat
when l learned this much felt no desire
to detain my friend Feodor longer than
was necessary. l was glad TO give him
something more decent in the way of cloth
ing than he had brought, and trife in
money to help him on his way, and to be
rid of him.
| never expected to see him again, nor
wished to do so; and l was somewhat
startled when a few weeks later, among a
gang of convictS which were being
marched out of the town on their way
eastward, l recognized Stepanovitch. I
was standing close by when he passed.
and was so much surprised to see him that
l somewhat imprudently, perhaps, spoke
to him by name. But, will you believe it?
the ungratefel dog stared me in the face,
aud marched sullenly by without word or
sign of recognition. $50 much" thou chit
|, "fOr gratitude"
Some months later, when the next sum-
mer 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 COM
paratively old, was of wood. 1t was a
thing to blaze up like a box OF matches. 1t
was not, however, in the main building
that the fire had broken out, but in some
sheds connected with the main buildings
by range of shopping. This last was
stone-built, but, as i'll luck would have it,
covered with wooden shingles.
A good many people were soon got to-
gether, mostly our own hands, and
directed and encouraged them as well as
could to get the fire under. But they>w&re
a stolid, heavy set of fellows, those Ru =
/ SLAMS, and 6ne way in wniCh tneY take care
not TO over-exert themselves at a fire is
| enough to drive an Englishman wild. Yet
| there were some few who worked well, and
| one fellow in particular. / noticed a rag
| ged fellow, beggar ! took him to be, who
really worked spIendidly, and in way
that ought to have made many of those
whose daily bread depended on the exist
ance OF the mill ashamed of themselves.
| What between the apathy of those lazy
scoundrels generally and want of water,
| it was soon plain that the sheds which
We're on fire could not be save, and that
| what we had to look to was the mill itself
| The danger Of the main building was in
| creasing every moment, for the fire was
beginning to make its way along the shin
| gled roof Of which | spoke
| | could see what had to be done-those
| shingles had to be stripped off. l had a
| ladder reared against the building, and
| called for volunteers to mount it. The
| height of that roof from the ground was
considerable, and the fire was every mo.
ment getting more and more hold upon it.
| To strip off the shingles would be a hard
| job and hot one, and it is not to be de-
MED, a dangerous one. Not one of those
! cold blOOded rasCals who had eaten our
bread for years would come forward.
! stood at the foot of the ladder, and told
them l was going myself. offered twenty
roubles-hfty roubles-to any man who
would Aelp me. But it was of no use.
just when | was about to mount alone.
the ragged stranger-fellow, whom | had
! before observed working so vigorously,
| came running up. He had been too busy
! in another place to know what was going
| forward sooner. That was scarcely a
| time for taking any particular notice Of
| peoples looks, yet | had an impression
that he was not altogether a stranger to
| me.
He looked up to the roof The delay of
| those few minutes had given fearful ad-
vantage to the fire. "There is death up
there" he said; sis saving this mill SO
0elY important to you"
alt it is burned l am a beggar. Every
| EOpecE l am worth is in it. A hundred
roubles if you will help me save It'll"
eve can talk of the reward afterward,"
he said, as he sprang past me and up the
| ladder like a cat.
| l was following. too eagerly, perhaps, to
| be careful, and [ am heavy man.. a
! round broke, and down came, with knee
so much twisted that l could scarcely
stand. 1t was no longer in my power to
| climb to the roof.
But from where propped myself against
a wall, l could see that ragged fellow, who
was up and doing enough for three or four
ordinary men. You should have seen how
he sent the shingles rafting down. Seen
| from below, he seemed at times to be work.
| ing with fire all around him, but he went
on without minding it. never saw an
| Englishman-let alone a Russian-go to it
with better will. l heard the people
| round me say that he worked more like a
| fiend than a mortal MAINLAND so he did.
He handled the burning wood as though
| his fingers had been iron instead of flesh
| and bone, and scarcely seemed to shrink
from the flames that blazed up round his
| face. He never appeared to rest or stay
| for breath until he had succeeded in cut
| ting off the communication between the
| fire and the mill.
[ made the men below set the ladder as
| handily as they could for him to get down,
| and he did his best to reach it, But he
must have been quite used up, besides
| being pretty much blinded and suffOcated
with the smoke. Anyway, he lost his
footing, and down he went through the
| rafters, and crashed among the burning
rubbish below. 1t was an ugly fall.
We got him out as well as we could; and
| snch scorched, smoke blackened,
| smashedup copy of Gods image l should
never wish to see again. But he was still
alive, and to the proposal to carry him
| straight to the hospital, | said, mo; take
him into my house" So they took him in.
After we had got the fire quite under,
and made all safe about the mill, limped
to the side of the bed where they had laid
| the poor fellow. He had come round bit
| by that time. He tried to open his eyes,
| but it seemed to me that the fire and smoke
| had not left him much power of seeing
| with them. He spoke, however, more
distinctly than might have been expected,
and his first question was whether the mill
| was safe.
| told him that owing to his pluck it was
| was surprised to find that he recognized
my voice, and still more when he named
my name. 'You do not know me-" he
said-and, indeed, it was not likely that
| any one should know such a crushed and
| shapeless mass of cinder as he was-'Y GU
| do not know me-Feodor Stepanovitch
| They caught me and took me back. I
| knew you when you spoke to me in the
should suspect you Of having befriended
me. have escaped from them again, and
| am going home to lvanOva. | must see
my wife and that villain Makarof."
He lay little, and then added: "I am
| glad was here to help you tonight. l am
| glad they did not take me again before [
| got here. l do not think the pOiitzid will
! take me again"
a. I =. L. 4