In a hut of better pretensions than the other buildings, within the fort, sat, on his camp sofa, the commander of the Russian castle. The deep frown on his dark brow, showed his mortification at the ill success of the Imperial arms, and he was meditating fierce and sanguinary revenge against the gallant mountaineers for their determined defence of their native land. He was one with whom our readers are already acquainted; the reputed father of our hero, the Baron Galetzoff. The governor was interrupted in his meditations by the entrance of an officer, who came to announce that a native chief, as his dress betokened him to be, had with a single attendant arrived at the fort, and seemed to have some communication of importance to make. "Admit him," said the Baron. "But let a company with fixed bayonets form round him at the entrance of the fort, and I will go forth to meet him. I cannot trust these mountaineers; some treachery lurks beneath every action. Call my interpreter, and I will hear what this robber chief has to say, and order the troops under arms, that he may see our strength, and report it to his countrymen for he comes here but to act the spy." As the Khan and his squire entered the fort, the moon slowly rose above the mountains, throwing her soft clear beams on the calm waters of the bay, and shining on the fixed bayonets of the troops, and on the swords of the officers, who stood grouped in knots around in rich and varied uniforms gazing on the proud and warlike-looking stranger, while the banner displaying Russia's dark eagle floated vauntingly above their heads. A troop of Cossacks, in their wild and picturesque garb, were mounted on fleet horses with embroidered housings. Their arms were highly ornamented; and, as they galloped to the spot, they flourished aloft their long spears whose points glittered brightly. On either side the troops were drawn up in long and close lines; the bayonets seeming to form a sharp, pointed wall of bright steel tipped with burnished silver. In different parts of the fort blazed the camp fires of the soldiers; and, in attendance on the governor, came a party of men with torches, throwing a red glare of light on all around. The miserable buildings, and dark irregular fortifications were thrown into shade, leaving only the gaudy and glittering panoply of war exposed to view, mocking the calm splendour of the moon, as she glided in her course through the deep blue sky, amid myriads of bright and shining stars. As the Russian governor reached the gate of the fort, he perceived the commanding figure of the young Khan Besin Kaloret, and his squire standing close behind him with a cocked pistol in his hand. The mountain warrior stood fearless and unabashed amid the gorgeous and imposing array of the Russian troops forming round him.