The Black Hills union. [volume] (Rapid City, Pennington County, Dakota [S.D.]) 1889-1904, 1897-08-06
WITHIN AN ACE,
CHAPTER XI-CONTINuED.

toward me. | presume there
Is a pair of eyes, more Or less weak or
diseased, behind them, that gaze at
me. but all l see is the spectacles.
just outside the town. Jogging
quietly along in front Of US, l behold
a cart laden with wool sacks A Cos
sack lies on his stomach on top of the
sacks, leaning on his elbows.
He looks over his shoulder at the
sound of the approaching ~post-chaise,
and l recognize Kalatch. In less than
a minute we have clattered past them
two Cossack caps have
been respectfully raised. OF
course | look round. to receive a GRIN
and a wink from Yerack now that the
Positions back is toward him.
l wave my hand. which is instantly
responded to oy both of the occupants
of the cart in a series of wild gesticu-
la:ions. There is a flash of teeth. and
this is the last l see of the Cossacks.
1t is a relief to stretch my cramped
limbs and let my churned blood sub
side at the station where we stop to
change horses. And oh, the still
greater relief is the consciousness of
that roll of notes in my pocket! 10
be IN a position to order a hearty
meal and wash the dust from my
throat with copious draughts. Then
away again, for a few versts through
the cool shady vistas of a pine wood
and out again into the open; to note
that the sun is long past the meridian
and slopes westward.
At length the spires of Wilma begin
to show through the distant haze. and
in spite of my excellent disguise and
the safeguards in my pockets, l feel
a qualm of uneasiness. l wish N.Y.
self in the train.
Soon we are Gathering over the
roughly paved streets in the subdued
twilight Right through the heart
OF the town we 60. and out on the
other side; through struggling suburbs,
the horses stumbling in the broken
roads; the chaise swaying like a boat
on a stormy ocean. until at last, here
is the station.
A whole hour to wait. | turn
YEARLY from the contemplation Of the
white faced clock and wander to the
general waiting room. Some one has
left a newspaper lying on one of the
seats. l take it up and retire with it
to a corner. The first thing my eyes
fall on is a paragraph headed: Cap
ture OF the Renowned Political Grim
inal. Vladimir Alexandrovitch Lu-
banOtf!!'
l read it with avidity; the more so.
as the greater part of it is entirely new
to me. 1t begins with a short sketch
of this remarkable mans career; goes
on to describe his execution, the theft
Of his body and resuscitation by med
lcal students and finally his capture
in a bean field near Kovno, whittier
he had crawled to feed on the beans.
when taken. the prisoner who is
a mar Of remarkably powerful frame.
was in a frightfullv emaciated con-
dltlon n literally in a starving state.
He is now confined in Kovno jail,
whence he will shortly be transported,
under a strong escort to St, Peters
burg"
1t is difficult to realize that this man
l have just read about is myself.
With my hand over my eyes 1 try TO
con- ure up the unfortunate wretch in
Kovno jail, and lose for a moment my
own identity in contemplation of him.
When l come to myself [ smile behind
my beard.
At length. from the general move
ment that commences in the direction
OF a door opposite the entrance. I pre-
sumo that the ticket window is open.
However, l still remain sitting. |
even wait until the first bell is sound
ing before I follow in the wake of the
stream.
The circular hall. into which I pass,
has the center taken up by u block of
offices where the tickets are issued, so
that only a wide passage lined on the
wall side with benches. broken here
and there by a door: is left free.
just n OF the row of windows is
open, and at it is but one male pas
senger.
His back is toward me. l advance
and walt my turn close behind it. 1
can see the long white fingers gather
up the change. They are nervous
fingers and a silver coin drops from
them and rolls to the open space. 1
step quickly forward, pick it up, and
on restoring it to its owner find myself
confronted by a pair of blue box
spectacles.
For a moment l stare at him in
wonderment How has he got here?
Then at once my common sense tells
me that there is nothing at ell re-