"Brother, they
are burning the town!"
It was, indeed, only too plain. Flashes of light appeared in the midst
of the vapor. It became thicker and thicker as it mounted upwards.
But were they Tartars who had done this? They might be Russians,
obeying the orders of the Grand Duke. Had the government of the Czar
determined that from Krasnoiarsk, from the Yenisei, not a town,
not a village should offer a refuge to the Emir's soldiers?
What was Michael to do?
He was undecided. However, having weighed the pros and cons,
he thought that whatever might be the difficulties of a journey
across the steppe without a beaten path, he ought not to risk
capture a second time by the Tartars. He was just proposing to
Nicholas to leave the road, when a shot was heard on their right.
A ball whistled, and the horse of the kibitka fell dead,
shot through the head.
A dozen horsemen dashed forward, and the kibitka was surrounded.
Before they knew where they were, Michael, Nadia, and Nicholas
were prisoners, and were being dragged rapidly towards Nijni-Oudinsk.
Michael, in this second attack, had lost none of his presence of mind.
Being unable to see his enemies, he had not thought of defending himself.
Even had he possessed the use of his eyes, he would not have
attempted it. The consequences would have been his death and that
of his companions. But, though he could not see, he could listen
and understand what was said.
From their language he found that these soldiers were Tartars,
and from their words, that they preceded the invading army.
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