There! Were those not voices? Did Andryushka Lasaref wish to take the skins at once, and had he brought the child with him? But there seemed to be several people, and he heard distinctly the beat of the horses' hoofs. He ought to have been glad perhaps, but his heart felt painfully contracted. What a wolf's life his was, spent in perpetual mistrust and fear! Now he could distinguish Anjuta's merry tones ... and now something came forward from between the trees. "You come to fetch my soul," cried Ivan with his hair bristling. The four Cossacks halted on the clearing before the hut. "Good evening, Grandfather! Grandfather! here I am!" But what was the matter? Her Grandfather rushed into the hut and re-appeared with his gun in his hand. And he was hardly recognizable with his threatening eyes in his distorted face. "Come now! No jokes, Ivan the Runaway," exclaimed the kind stout gentleman. "You know you only make matters worse. Throw away your gun, or I will have you knouted." "Your honour has taken the trouble to come here for the sake of my poor soul," said the old man with a grim smile. His eye fell on Anjuta. "You have betrayed me, you vermin!" he snarled. The convict had awoken in him. "Surrender yourself, Ivan," said the official in the red-bordered cap. "Let him take me who is tired of life," laughed the old man wildly, turning his gun-muzzle from one Cossack to another! "Shoot him down!" cried the excited official. One of the riders raised his musket. A shot rang out. Ivan had fired and missed. The Cossack remained motionless and coolly fired in reply. "Hit!" he said in a low voice and turned away. Ivan fell sideways on the snow, which at once took a red tinge under him. He lifted himself once more on his elbow and sank back again. Then he stretched himself at full length with his face turned upwards. "Anjuta, my little dove!" his pale lips whispered. But she stood as though petrified; her old familiar expression, "I am afraid," died on her tongue. The Cossacks approached the convict. "How is he?" asked the official. "It is all over with him, your honour." The official took off his cap piously and crossed himself; the Cossacks followed his example. Ivan lay quite still, gazing motionless up at the sky. Then the little girl awoke out of her stupor, threw herself on her knees beside him, and tried despairingly to lift him; her poor little body quivered like a bird in the death-struggle. "Grandfather! Wake up! It is I! Listen, Grandfather!" But he did not answer. Then the child fell on the body, and wept as if her heart would break. [Illustration] PRINTED IN GREAT BRITAIN FOR ROBERT SCOTT, PUBLISHER, PATERNOSTER ROW, LONDON, BY BUTLER & TANNER, FROME.