Warren sheaf. [volume] (Warren, Marshall County, Minn.) 1880-current, 1901-05-30
CHAPTER I.
THy GUNMAKER AND THE MONK.

The time at which we open our
story is midwinter and toward the
close Of the seventeenth century.
Russia had passed through the long
and bitter ordeal of national night.
The Tartar yoke had been worn till
the very bones of the nation were
CALLED, and when this was thrown
off civil discussions and Insured
tions commenced. The Poles and
swedes plundered the country, and
amid general tumult and confusion
some half dozen: men we're clamor-
ing for the throne. At length a few
patriotic citizens, pledging every
thing they held dear on earth to the
cause Of freedom from this curse of
anarchy and headed by "a noble
prince and a humble, patriotic
butcher, made bold stand to save
the country. Moscow was retaken,
and Michael Romanotf was chosen
czar, and this illustrious family still
occupies the imperial throne. And
now the day of Russian greatness
dawned, but the sun was not fairly
up and the broad light opened not
upon the empire until Peter came
to the throne ! \
In the department of the Sloboda,
the suburbs of Moscow, and very
near the river Moskwa stood
humble cot, the exterior Of which
betrayed a neatness of arrangement
and show of taste that more than
made up for it's smallness of size.
Nor was it so very small, in fact,
but only in contrast, for near at
hand about it stood many large,
shabby, dirty looking structures
that overlooked the prim cot, as
bleak mountains may look down up.
on verdant hill. And within this
cot was as neat as without. The
two apartments in front, one of
which was only used in winter, were
furnished not only with neatness,
but with a fair show of ornament
and luxury. Back of these were
large cooking and dining room and
two small bedrooms, and back still
from these were an artisans shop
and other outbuildings. The shop
was devoted principally to the man
ufacture Of firearms. Some swords
and other edged weapons we're made
here upon special application.
The gunmaker now stood by his
forge watching the white smoke as
it curled up toward the throat of the
chimney. He was young man,
not over three and twenty, and pos
sessed a frame of more than ordina-
~ symmetry and muscular develop
ment. He was not large-not above
the medium size - but a single
glance at the swelling chest, the
broad shoulders and the sinewy
ridges of the bare arms told at once
that he was master of great physical
power. His features were regular,
yet strongly marked and eminently
handsome. His brow, which was
full and high, was half covered by
the light brown curls that waved
over it, while his eyes, which were
of bright, brilliant deep gray in
color, lent cast of genius to the
intellect Of the brow. His name
was Ruric Newell. His father had
been killed in the then late war with
the Turks, and the son, leaving his
mother properly cared for, went to
Spain soon after the bereavement.
There he found work in the most
noted armories, and now, well versed
in the trade, he had returned to his
native city to follow his calling
and support his mother.
Near by stood a boy-Paul Pee
poff-a bright, intelligent lad, some
rs years Of age, who had bound him.
self to the gunmaker for the pur-
pose Of learning the art. His hair
and his eyes were darker than his
masters, and if he possessed not so
much sound intellect he certainly
possessed an unwonted degree of
keen, quick wit and answering in
tegrity.
! The sun had been some time be-
low the horizon, and the only light
of any consequence that made
things partially visible within the
shop came from the dull blaze Of
the Goals on the forge, as Paul ever
and anon bore down upon the brake
that moved the bellows. Suddenly
Ruric started back from the forge
as his mind broke from the deep
reverie into which he had fallen,
and, having babe his boy to see that
matters were properly disposed for
the night, he turned toward the
door and was soon in the kitchen,
where his mother had supper all
prepared and set out. ,@ IL: