He recognized Michael and Nadia. "Farewell, my friends!" he murmured.
"I am glad to have seen you again! Pray for me!"
Michael continued to dig, though the ground, having been tightly
rammed down, was as hard as stone, and he managed at last to get
out the body of the unhappy man. He listened if his heart was still
beating. . . . It was still!
He wished to bury him, that he might not be left exposed;
and the hole into which Nicholas had been placed when living,
was enlarged, so that he might be laid in it--dead! The faithful
Serko was laid by his master.
At that moment, a noise was heard on the road, about half
a verst distant. Michael Strogoff listened. It was evidently
a detachment of horse advancing towards the Dinka. "Nadia, Nadia!"
he said in a low voice.
Nadia, who was kneeling in prayer, arose. "Look, look!" said he.
"The Tartars!" she whispered.
It was indeed the Emir's advance-guard, passing rapidly along
the road to Irkutsk.
"They shall not prevent me from burying him!" said Michael. And he
continued his work.
Soon, the body of Nicholas, the hands crossed on the breast,
was laid in the grave. Michael and Nadia, kneeling, prayed a last
time for the poor fellow, inoffensive and good, who had paid
for his devotion towards them with his life.
"And now," said Michael, as he threw in the earth, "the wolves
of the steppe will not devour him."
Then he shook his fist at the troop of horsemen who were passing.
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