But on the last night of March a cheering change came. They were stopping at a post station on the Ussuri, and when Sandoff rose early, as was his wont, and went out into the courtyard to see how Shamarin and Zamosc had fared, he found the air bitterly cold, and the river, which had partly broken up on the previous day, ice bound from bank to bank. The post road, as far as the eye could reach, was smooth, hard and glassy. No time was lost in starting, and as the fresh relay of horses bounded forward under loose rein, with the sledge trailing lightly behind them, Sandoff turned to his companions and cried exultantly: “Hurra! We are safe! This cold spell won’t last long, but it will be quite sufficient to carry us to Vladivostok—or nearly there, for I have no intention of entering the town. We will make no more stops but push right on, and by tomorrow night we ought to reach our journey’s end.” At noon a village of some size was reached, Riga by name, and here the passports of the travelers were demanded by a bearded Russian officer who stopped the sledge before the military post in the center of the town. He glanced over the document with sudden interest, whispering to several companions standing near, and then handed it back to Sandoff. “If your excellency wishes a good hotel,” he said, “I can direct you to one—or perhaps you would prefer the hospitality of the barracks? The best we have is at your service. Our commander, Colonel Nord, is absent, but will return before evening.” Sandoff looked doubtfully at the speaker, with a dim suspicion that something was wrong. “Give my best regards to Colonel Nord,” he said calmly. “Tell him that I am in haste, and must go on to the next station.” The officer was plainly taken aback by this answer. He looked at Sandoff, and then at his companions, who were no less surprised. From his nest of rugs, deep down in the sledge, Zamosc uttered a faint chuckle that no one heard. Sandoff bowed with dignity to the officer, calmly gathered up the lines, and called to the horses. The sledge moved slowly off, gaining speed with each second, but the sharp command to stop that Sandoff more than half feared did not come. Vera was on her knees, peeping through a hole in the rear curtain. “The officer is still standing in the center of the road,” she announced eagerly. “He is talking to his companions, and pointing. Now the Cossacks are coming out of the military post—a dozen of them. People are running from their houses to see what is the matter.” An interval of silence and suspense, during which the sledge moved rapidly down the street. “Now the officer has gone back,” continued Vera in a tone of relief, “and the Cossacks are moving away too. Only a few peasants are in sight.”