“Hold up, my pigeons!” cried the iemschik; it was his business to obey, not to question. Just then a distant noise was heard, shrill whistling through the atmosphere, so calm a minute before. By the light of a dazzling flash, almost immediately followed by a tremendous clap of thunder, Michael could see huge pines on a high peak, bending before the blast. The wind was unchained, but as yet it was the upper air alone which was disturbed. Successive crashes showed that many of the trees had been unable to resist the burst of the hurricane. An avalanche of shattered trunks swept across the road and dashed over the precipice on the left, two hundred feet in front of the tarantass. The horses stopped short. “Get up, my pretty doves!” cried the iemschik, adding the cracking of his whip to the rumbling of the thunder. Michael took Nadia’s hand. “Are you asleep, sister?” “No, brother.” “Be ready for anything; here comes the storm!” “I am ready.” Michael Strogoff had only just time to draw the leathern curtains, when the storm was upon them. The iemschik leapt from his seat and seized the horses’ heads, for terrible danger threatened the whole party. The tarantass was at a standstill at a turning of the road, down which swept the hurricane; it was absolutely necessary to hold the animals’ heads to the wind, for if the carriage was taken broadside it must infallibly capsize and be dashed over the precipice. The frightened horses reared, and their driver could not manage to quiet them. His friendly expressions had been succeeded by the most insulting epithets. Nothing was of any use. The unfortunate animals, blinded by the lightning, terrified by the incessant peals of thunder, threatened every instant to break their traces and flee. The iemschik had no longer any control over his team. At that moment Michael Strogoff threw himself from the tarantass and rushed to his assistance. Endowed with more than common strength, he managed, though not without difficulty, to master the horses. The storm now raged with redoubled fury. A perfect avalanche of stones and trunks of trees began to roll down the slope above them. “We cannot stop here,” said Michael. “We cannot stop anywhere,” returned the iemschik, all his energies apparently overcome by terror. “The storm will soon send us to the bottom of the mountain, and that by the shortest way.” “Take you that horse, coward,” returned Michael, “I’ll look after this one.” A fresh burst of the storm interrupted him. The driver and he were obliged to crouch upon the ground to avoid being blown down. The carriage, notwithstanding their efforts and those of the horses, was gradually blown back, and had it not been stopped by the trunk of a tree, it would have gone over the edge of the precipice. “Do not be afraid, Nadia!” cried Michael Strogoff. “I’m not afraid,” replied the young Livonian, her voice not betraying the slightest emotion.