"Never saw one of them. Never got so far. And what could I do, when my friend was killed? Very likely they are there though. I shall look them up some day, perhaps, if I can hear of that Russian officer. But most likely not worth finding. Pale emeralds fetch very little. Good-bye, good-bye! Don't forget one thing. Have the dogs chained up, for fear of the police making holes in them." "Oh, you are not afraid of the dogs making holes in the police?" I said, while shaking hands with him. "I should be sorry to have to fight _Kuban_ and _Orla_, with a police-staff." "So should I. But you may depend upon it, when they make a raid of that sort, expecting a big capture, and stout resistance, they will not come down without fire-arms." CHAPTER XV SISTER _v._ SWEETHEART There had not been, so far as I could recollect, anything that could be called even a tiff--if such a wretched syllable can find its way into the heaven seventy-seventh--between the lovely Dariel and myself; but on the other hand I had left her rather more abruptly than courtesy would warrant, because of the grievous tranquillity she displayed in speaking of a fellow (a Prince Hafer, as she called him), who possessed almost every hateful merit, and was eager to bring it in, to cut out mine, by some underhand and undermining fraud. What had I done to be treated like this? Was there no claim established on my part? Was it nothing to have come down the hill that evening, at the risk of my neck and Old Joe's as well, and then to put up with a strained conscience for a month, and then to catch no fish every day, for it might be a week of hook and barb, and then to run a frightful risk of hydrophobia, and then to let my duty and the business of the farm--however, there was not much to be said about that; but what had I done that no message came, that I should be left to cool my heels, without even a distant sigh in token of some little anxiety about me? "Send Allai to me to-morrow night," I had said as plainly as possible, "and you shall hear all about young Nickols." It was no young Nickols--that was my mistake, or my jealousy had rejuvenised him; but that could not alter the intention. Was it to be supposed that Dariel, the gentle, and sensible, and simple-hearted Dariel had taken offence at my hasty departure, and resolved to have no more to say to me?