But Lieutenant Tschak had no compunctions about making the attempt. Under his autocratic ordering, every man who could swallow got a bowl of hot tea and a hunch of bread. Then the sick were carried out, with small attention to their groanings, and the funereal procession set off at a foot pace for the journey home. Two of the wounded Cossacks got there before they reached Kara; and when they rumbled slowly through Ust Kara, through which they had rattled so briskly the day before, Hope's companions in the tarantas were two dead men, and two sorely wounded, and Serge Palma--and him she feared dead, since he showed no signs of life. CHAPTER XXVII HOW THREE CAME HOME AND ONE WENT FURTHER As they jolted through the Lower Diggings and the settlement, all who could turned out to see them pass, and so they came at last to the political prison, where Captain Sokolof and a grizzly-bearded stranger stood awaiting them inside the great stockade. Sokolof listened with a grim face to Lieutenant Tschak's report, while the wounded men were being carried into the hospital and the teléga discharged its ghastly load. Pavlof had got down stiffly from his horse, and Hope climbed down from the tarantas as soon as Serge's body had been lifted down, and, when he had disposed of the rest, Sokolof came across to them. Hope's eyes swept his face anxiously for indications of their fate, but found it inscrutable. The grizzly-bearded man had followed the wounded men into the hospital. "Madame, you are at liberty to return to your own house," said Sokolof abruptly. "You, Mr. Palma, must remain here." "May I not stop with my husband, sir?" asked Hope. "He is wounded." "It shall be seen to. You will be better at home, Madame." "You will be far better there, dearest. God keep you!" said Paul, and kissed her very tenderly, thinking it might well be for the last time. With the same fear in her, she took one long look at him, and then went brokenly down the enclosure. The great gate opened and closed, the pointed black fangs of the stockade grinned derisively, and Paul wondered if he would ever see her more. He was still staring blankly at the gates, as though he could see through them and after her, when Sokolof touched him on the shoulder, and said quietly, "Follow me!" and strode away to his own quarters. "You made a great mistake," he said, turning upon him abruptly, as soon as they were in his room. "What made you go with that man?" "It was impossible for me to do otherwise." "Da! Impossible? What hold has he on you?" Pavlof hesitated. He did not know where he stood, and least said soonest mended. "Who is he?" asked Sokolof again. "And why had you to go with him?" And still Pavlof made no reply. "See, Mr. Palma, I have been your friend. I would still be so. But, as I see things at present, it is an ill return you have made me in this matter." Pavlof made a gesture of dissent.