The Black Hills union. [volume] (Rapid City, Pennington County, Dakota [S.D.]) 1889-1904, 1897-07-16
CHAPTER vi.
A Black Shadow.

SI1-1l LIN l..
A Black Shadow.
The aspect of the country has
changed since l set out from Little
kolga one early morning nearly a
month ago. Then the birches stood
clad in pale green. now they are
decked in pure gold. The moors have
deepened IN color until they glow in
red and purple, and many a waxen
beethoven has given place TO a variety
of cleaning berries which invite ne
to many a repast-
And now | am actually in the gov-
eminent of Kovno. getting very near
the frontier, and my first difficulty is
staring me in the face. l have noted
its approach every time l have had
occasion to take out Maruscha's little
purse to pay for a frugal meal, and
calmly philosophical, l have thought:
when the time comes, I will find
a way"
1t has come. The landlord of the
inn before whose door l sit has just
received on his dirty palm my last
ten-copec piece. have no longer the
means to purchase satisfaction for my
ohtrnsivcly healthy appetite when it
shall next begin to clamor. l am
nothing daunted. however; the unsus-
picious good fellowship of peddler
and peasant farmer: artisan. or tax
collector, has inspired me with such
hardihood that l picture myself I'M
dismayed, approaching some home
stead and smilingly telling the pro-
prietor the droll case of how nv
money has vi short and asking him
to let me earn a meal.
l have avoided towns as much as
possible, but to a town am I now
bound, having told Maruscha in nv
last letter to write to Kovno. The
landlord has just informed me that it
lies twelve versts from here; I shall
therefore be in possession of my letter
in a few hours.
l rise and stretch myself, take up a
stout alder stick that | cut at the be-
ginning of my journey, and start at a
steady pace up the street. Soon
the last wooden hut is passed; the in
Vulnerable patches of reclaimed land,
again and the trackless wastes of bog
and moor stretch away to right and
left over which the sparrow-hawks
culver e%ternaliy. am in e%xuberant
spirits; thus as I swing along the road
l break into a song Maruscha has
often sung to me.
Hello brother! Be merciful" ex-
claims a voice from the ground. |
abruptly stop singing; and looking
down perceive that my stick. which I
have been swaying from side to side,
has narrowly escaped striking the
head OF a young man who reclines on
the side Of a ditch. He blinks up at
me with a foolish, maudlin smirk. and
l at once perceive that he is not sober.
Il beg your pardon" l say. lifting
my hat without hating:
'iEallo, stop! Wait for a fellow,
little brother" cries the man, as he
scrambles out of the ditch.
The request a Tects me d%isagreeably:
l want to get on. and prefer my own
company to that of a drunken-what?
not a Moujik. nor a commits voyageur;
nor a peasant farmer. What then?
He is dressed in a light summer
suit of no provincial cut, though
soiled and spotted with grease. His
hands show white through the dirt on
them, and on the little finger of the
left is a costly ring, thick gold snake
with a diamond in it's head. His
boots are of patent leather, such as
are worn by Petersburg dandies, and
his creased and disordered cravat is
of white silk with a blue sprig.
He has struggled to his legs
and stands before me, a re-
pulsive-looking object with his
s'oping shoulders, his thin, blotched
face. from which protrudes a sharp,
mean nose. looking as if the point
had been dipped in red ink and he
winks mis- small. red-rimmed eyes in
~cessantly, and looks at me with an
inane. vacant grin.
You m ght have put my eye out
there. my friend. he observe shut
ing up the left and cooking the other
ut me.