Suddenly Serko uttered a fresh bark and darted towards a gigantic bird which had swooped down. It was a vulture. When Serko ran towards it, it rose, but returning struck at the dog. The latter leapt up at it. A blow from the formidable beak alighted on his head, and this time Serko fell back lifeless on the ground. At the same moment a cry of horror escaped Nadia. “There... there!” she exclaimed. A head issued from the ground! She had stumbled against it in the darkness. Nadia fell on her knees beside it. Nicholas buried up to his neck, according to the atrocious Tartar custom, had been left in the steppe to die of thirst, and perhaps by the teeth of wolves or the beaks of birds of prey! Frightful torture for the victim imprisoned in the ground--the earth pressed down so that he cannot move, his arms bound to his body like those of a corpse in its coffin! The miserable wretch, living in the mold of clay from which he is powerless to break out, can only long for the death which is so slow in coming! There the Tartars had buried their prisoner three days before! For three days, Nicholas waited for the help which now came too late! The vultures had caught sight of the head on a level with the ground, and for some hours the dog had been defending his master against these ferocious birds! Michael dug at the ground with his knife to release his friend! The eyes of Nicholas, which till then had been closed, opened. 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. “Forward, Nadia!” he said.