The Princeton union. [volume] (Princeton, Minn.) 1876-1976, 1892-04-14
40 breathes a frightened whisper

has been heard, as leaning forward
the driver calls to his horses:
Away! Fly, my beauties - my
pretty f1uttering doves-my Golobki
Haste, my brothers, to thy stables in
St. Petersburg"
The long, low howl of the oncomine
foe sounds nearer but unmindlul oil
danger the officer sits with his bride
envelOped in furs. too much absorbed
to give heed to outside events. They
are out now on the trackless steppes,
the horses, uncertain of their foothold
plunging with frenzied snort through
the drifts while the wolves speed in
their tracks. Iimothys voice rings
out again: ""."
Hi! Hi! Whoa there my beauties!
Speed onward, doves-an officer of
the ear rides behind thee Fly quick
ly for thy lives Onward! Haste,
my brothers,
Again there sounds that long low
howl and the swiftly moving black
mass gains steadily upon the sleigh.
They are upon it now, running swiftly
to gain the sides. the whole yelping
pack leaping up with cleaning eyes
and cruel hungry jaws. Aroused
from his dream of bliss the officer
sees their peril and leaning forward
fires right and left into the bowling
mass. The cry of the wounded,
seized upon and torn limb from limb
by their fellows, is almost human in
its agony, and in the momentary
| TO = oh
Haste little doves! Spread thy
wings straight for St, Petersburg.
Haste, and heaven help thee!'
The hungry demon which would
| have locked it's jaws in the leaders
throat drops before the officers unerr
ing shot, and the horses gallop on
| ward.
Peterkin sits awed by the great
peril, but for all he is so quiet there
IS no cowardly thought is the little
peasant, who with each painting
breath. is making bold resolve, bid
ing good~by brave heart to his cher
ished dreams-the golden visions of
fame in the great city. Those two
behind, the officer and his bride whose
sweet voice pleaded so earnestly in
his behalf. have everything to live
for while he--only those dreams and
soul full of unuttered music. The
violin is slung across his back nutelv
waiting for the bows light touch.
Quick as thought he will kiss it, will
give it one parting caress of exceed
ing bitterness. and then
A cry Of terror smites the air as
Peterkin rises to throw himself to GER
tain death, and he turns to see the
officers uplifted arm pointing STRAIGHT
at him the pistol, whose last shot has
been reserved for that purpose. In
both minds there has been the same
thought. A seconds pause as peasant
and officer gazed into each others
eyes. then Peterkin, noting tt he de-
tanning hold Of the day-old wife upon
her husbands arm. calls out
Hold! I will save thy life and
mine!n
With sudden powerful blow he
smites the violin as he regains his
seat, and strong and clear the first
discordant sounds are lost in the loud,
rapid movement of Polish measure
picked up somewhere upon that weary
tramp. The effect is magical. as the
unaccustomed sounds rise above the
bowling OF the wolves. They pause
hold up their heads to listen as though
seeming danger and slackening speed
almost halt
Bravo. lad. thy music doth give
good cheer to the horses. See how
the leader runs! Bravo! If thy fingers
grow not numb we shall make the
city,"
The boyish figure swaps adroitlv
with the motion of the sleigh. for the
peasant knows the lives of all denend
upon success IN keeping dry the
strings which vibrate with one loud
note strain after another. But it's no
easy thing with the snow cutting keen
and chill. while the fearful cold AL
most paralyzes the willing fingers.
Timothy breathes aloud a PRAYER to
heaven, for ahead a faint light grows
| upon the horizon-a light telling to
the practiced eyes of the nearness of
the city.
Courage brave fellows Fly. doves,
to thy haven; the city is in sight.
Keep, lad. to the music and we shall
be saved"
The wolves are following close
again with their long swinging trot
the chase telling upon the horses and
upon Peterl<in. to whom the strain IS
almost beyond his strength, stout
hearted and stout armed as he is.
His eyes flash with renewed cour-
age; he had not thought thus to enter
st. Petersburg, keeping death at bav
with that violin which should grant
him the hearing OF the ruler of the
Russians. The city of the czars, with
its broad streets and massive stone
quays, rises now before their ewes,
minaret dome and spire, cleaving the
sky in a bla of light.
little longer and over the frozen
Neva resounds the baffled yelping of
the vanquished wolves, as tearing
along the foaming steeds dash into St.
Petersburg, and the gallant leader,
under whose douga tangled the merry
bells falls blindly forward, crashing
to the earth. stone dead. And Peter
kin. the little violinist? In his frozen
fingers. blue and stiff. clasped so tight