Condemned as a Nihilist: A Story of Escape from SiberiaHenty, G. A. (George Alfred)
History
Condemned as a Nihilist: A Story of Escape from Siberia
Henty, G. A. (George Alfred)
Escapes -- Fiction; Russia -- History -- Alexander II, 1855-1881 -- Fiction; Siberia (Russia) -- Fiction
"Thank you very much, Mr. Robson, I should like it immensely. Petrovytch
was saying this morning that he thought I should be all the better for a
holiday, so I am sure he will spare me. I am nothing of a shot, in fact
I never fired a shot at game in my life, though I have practised a bit
with the rifle, but I am sure it will be very jolly whether we shoot
anything or not."
"Very well, then, be at the station to catch the seven o'clock train in
the morning. It is a four hours' railway journey."
"Is there anything to bring, sir?"
"No, you can take a hand-bag and sleeping things, but beyond a bit of
soap and a towel I don't suppose you will have need of anything, for you
will most likely sleep at some farm-house, or perhaps in a woodman's
hut, and there will not be any undressing. There are six of us going
from here, counting you, but the party is got up by two or three men we
know there. They tell me some of the officers of the regiment stationed
there will be of the party, and they will have a hundred or so of their
men to act as beaters. I have a spare gun that I will bring for you."
The next morning Godfrey joined Mr. Robson at the station. A Mr. White,
whom he knew well, was one of the party, and the other three were
Russians. They had secured a first-class compartment, and as soon as
they started they rigged up a table with one of the cushions and began
to play whist.
"You don't play, I suppose, Godfrey?" Mr. Robson said.
"No, sir. I have played a little at my father's, but it will be a long
time before I shall be good enough to play. I have heard my father say
that there is better whist at St. Petersburg than in any place in the
world."
"I think he is right, lad. The Russians are first-rate players and are
passionately fond of the game, and naturally we English here have had to
learn to play up to their standard. The game is similar to that in
England, but they score altogether differently."
The four hours passed rapidly. Godfrey sometimes looked out of the
window at the flat country they were passing through, but more often
watched the play. They were met at the station by two of Mr. Robson's
friends, and found that sledges were in readiness and they were to start
at once.
"We have ten miles to drive," one of them said. "The others went on
early; they will have had one beat by the time we get there, and are
then to assemble for luncheon."
The road was good and the horses fast, so that the sledges flew along
rapidly. Most of the distance was through forest, but the last half-mile
was open, and the sledge drew up at a large farm-house standing in the
centre of the cleared space, and surrounded at a distance of half a mile
on all sides by the forest. A dozen men, about half of whom were in
uniform, poured out from the door as the four sledges drew up.
"You are just in time," one of them said. "The soup is ready and in
another minute we should have set to."
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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