At midnight he had cleared fifty miles, and halted at the station
of Koulikovo. But there, as he had feared, he found neither
horses nor carriages. Several Tartar detachments had passed
along the highway of the steppe. Everything had been stolen
or requisitioned both in the villages and in the posting-houses.
It was with difficulty that Michael Strogoff was even able
to obtain some refreshment for his horse and himself.
It was of great importance, therefore, to spare his horse, for he could
not tell when or how he might be able to replace it. Desiring, however,
to put the greatest possible distance between himself and the horsemen
who had no doubt been dispatched in pursuit, he resolved to push on.
After one hour's rest he resumed his course across the steppe.
Hitherto the weather had been propitious for his journey.
The temperature was endurable. The nights at this time of the year
are very short, and as they are lighted by the moon, the route
over the steppe is practicable. Michael Strogoff, moreover,
was a man certain of his road and devoid of doubt or hesitation,
and in spite of the melancholy thoughts which possessed him
he had preserved his clearness of mind, and made for his
destined point as though it were visible upon the horizon.
When he did halt for a moment at some turn in the road it was
to breathe his horse. Now he would dismount to ease his steed
for a moment, and again he would place his ear to the ground
to listen for the sound of galloping horses upon the steppe.
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