The old boatman did not expect to receive any fresh fugitives at Livenitchnaia, and yet, the moment the raft touched, two passengers, issuing from a deserted house, ran as fast as they could towards the beach. Nadia seated on the raft, was abstractedly gazing at the shore. A cry was about to escape her. She seized Michael’s hand, who at that moment raised his head. “What is the matter, Nadia?” he asked. “Our two traveling companions, Michael.” “The Frenchman and the Englishman whom we met in the defiles of the Ural?” “Yes.” Michael started, for the strict incognito which he wished to keep ran a risk of being betrayed. Indeed, it was no longer as Nicholas Korpanoff that Jolivet and Blount would now see him, but as the true Michael Strogoff, Courier of the Czar. The two correspondents had already met him twice since their separation at the Ichim post-house--the first time at the Zabediero camp, when he laid open Ivan Ogareff’s face with the knout; the second time at Tomsk, when he was condemned by the Emir. They therefore knew who he was and what depended on him. Michael Strogoff rapidly made up his mind. “Nadia,” said he, “when they step on board, ask them to come to me!” It was, in fact, Blount and Jolivet, whom the course of events had brought to the port of Livenitchnaia, as it had brought Michael Strogoff. As we know, after having been present at the entry of the Tartars into Tomsk, they had departed before the savage execution which terminated the fête. They had therefore never suspected that their former traveling companion had not been put to death, but blinded by order of the Emir. Having procured horses they had left Tomsk the same evening, with the fixed determination of henceforward dating their letters from the Russian camp of Eastern Siberia. They proceeded by forced marches towards Irkutsk. They hoped to distance Feofar-Khan, and would certainly have done so, had it not been for the unexpected apparition of the third column, come from the South, up the valley of the Yenisei. They had been cut off, as had been Michael, before being able even to reach the Dinka, and had been obliged to go back to Lake Baikal. They had been in the place for three days in much perplexity, when the raft arrived. The fugitives’ plan was explained to them. There was certainly a chance that they might be able to pass under cover of the night, and penetrate into Irkutsk. They resolved to make the attempt. Alcide directly communicated with the old boatman, and asked a passage for himself and his companion, offering to pay anything he demanded, whatever it might be. “No one pays here,” replied the old man gravely; “every one risks his life, that is all!”