"Ah!" he exclaimed. "That's the Batoushka Paraska speaks of. I've a letter from her, with Knishi news. But I must be quick, it's four days' journey here, and four back. I reported myself last Monday, and I must not be later than Wednesday or Thursday in showing up again. Oh, here's Paraska's letter! I was to tell you,— "'Father Cyril has been sent away from Knishi, thanks to Father Paissy. He was not permitted to take Velia with him—'" "Who is Velia?" Demyan inquired. "Read on!" cried Alexis. "'He was compelled to leave her behind with the widow of Father Vasili; and folks say she is going to marry again to old Okhrim, the Starosta. If possible let Michael know at once—'" "Who is Michael?" asked Demyan again. "He is my son," said Alexis; "and Velia is my little daughter." "All the children under ten years of age were taken from us," said Khariton; "and Velia was adopted by Father Cyril. This is terrible news!" Every man there saw at once the threatening meaning of it. The tender, delicate child had been put into the hands of a tyrannical and unscrupulous woman; and possibly into the power of a brutal and cruel man, who would vent upon her his bigoted hatred of her people. Alexis fell down on his knees, and groaning, hid his face in his hands. "Oh, my God! My God, save her!" he cried in a tone of anguish. The letter had been written nearly four months ago. Thousands of miles stretched between them and the desolate child. Already she must have endured a winter of misery. What could be done for her? "I must go, father!" exclaimed Michael. "If I have to beg my way, I must go. And oh, I'll save her, father! Velia, little Velia!" And the boy's voice rose into a passionate cry, as if he would make her hear him across all the space that divided them. The affair had to be settled speedily, for if Michael went, it was best that he should go as far as Irkutsk with Demyan, before the roads were broken up by the thaw. "Let him come with me," said Demyan; "we've got friends in Irkutsk. They'll give him letters to other friends on the way. We'll get a few more roubles together. And as soon as he catches up the railway, he'll spin along. He'll get to Knishi before next winter; and the summer is better. Yarina will befriend her, be sure of that." "You must go, my boy," said Alexis, "but you must make your way first of all to Odessa, and get your kinsman there to help you. At any rate he will help you with money." In a few hours Michael had said farewell to his father, and the whole band of Stundists. In a short time they would be settled in their new dwellings, and begin to make decent homes of them. "The winter's woe was past," and new hopes were springing up. But for this bad news Michael felt that life even in the Trans-Baikal might be full of gladness.