Vera came swiftly down the beach, and bounding over the ice sprang lightly into the boat. Another instant and the two men had pushed it free of the edge, springing safely in as it settled deep in the black water. Each seized a boat hook, and as they prodded and lunged at the great ice cakes that struck the little craft on all sides, and threatened to grind it to fragments, the door of the cabin opened and a man appeared on the threshold—a frowsy looking peasant, only half clad. His dog, a small noisy cur, slipped between his legs and ran down to the shore, where it stood and barked hoarsely at the retreating boat. The man stooped and picked up the coin, but at first he did not comprehend what had taken place. When his dull faculties finally grasped the truth, he ran down to look into the shed, and then began to shout loudly, gazing out upon the river. Evidently the money did not console him for the loss of his boat. Meanwhile the strong current was bearing the fugitives rapidly down stream at imminent risk of an upset, for the boat swirled in every direction, now sinking deep in the water, now rising high on the drifting ice cakes. “That noisy fellow and his dog will prove our ruin,” muttered Shamarin. “Their cries can be heard at Ust Kara.” “Courage, courage!” whispered Sandoff. “We will soon be out of sight and reach. Careful now, my friend! Below us the river narrows and flows close to rugged hills. There we shall be likely to encounter a swifter and more dangerous current.” As they skillfully guided the boat onward, striving to keep it headed with the tide, both heard distinctly, above the roar of the water and the grinding of the ice, a quick, dull noise strangely like the galloping of horses. Vera heard it too, and started from her seat in alarm. All three forgot for a moment the nearer and more imminent peril, and turned for a look at the spot they had just left. The moonlight shone brightly on the cabin, and on the man and dog standing by the shore, and then its pale rays fell on foaming horses, and rifle barrels, green uniforms, and bearded faces, as a troop of Cossacks spurred at top speed around the bluff and out on the broad stretch of shore. At sight of that dread body of horsemen they shivered and felt that hope was indeed gone. Sandoff was the first to fling off the lethargy of despair. His mental eye showed him what chances were favorable and what unfavorable. Besides, he would rather have died than submit to recapture. “Don’t despair,” he whispered sharply to his companions. “We have a chance yet—and a good one. The country below us looks rugged, too rough for the Cossacks to traverse with any speed. If the current continues as it does now, we shall easily distance them. Help me to get the boat toward the other shore as far as possible, Shamarin; they may take it into their heads to fire at us.”