Earlier in the day we had attempted to send a message to friends in Saratoff, but were prevented. We now learned that telegraphic communication between this place and Saratoff had been temporarily resumed, whereupon we thought to inform friends of our plight in case the situation developed the serious aspect which we had reason to believe it might. My companion broached the matter to our guard, who called another guard, who said he would go with one of us to the telegraph office. My companion started. At the very door of the office they were overtaken by a messenger from the chief of the gendarmes, forbidding us to send out any message by telegraph or otherwise. This made us feel more than ever that we had been acquainted with only part of the report concerning us. Furthermore, our guards were extremely watchful of us. Their attitude clearly indicated that they were impressed with our importance--or possible importance. In the meantime I grew restless in the stuffy room where we were confined, and asked that I might go out for a breath of air. My request was granted, but a guard with a gun accompanied me. Some small boys were at play in the road. Their game was a ball-game played with a miniature catapult. I watched them a little while and then made to join them. This seemed to please them, and until dark stopped us I continued to play with the boys--my guard standing by all the while, amused, and ever watchful. On his way back from the telegraph office my companion succeeded in negotiating with some one for four eggs, which were boiled for us, and served when the samovar was at last ready. Weary and worn with our long journey, without sleep and still very hungry, we stretched out on narrow wooden benches shortly after nine o’clock, and I, at least, slept soundly till five o’clock in the morning. The only bed in the room was used by our guards. They did not lie down, but reclined against the pillows, their rifles always in their hands ready for instant use. A little before seven o’clock the following morning we were en route for Saratoff. As on the previous day, we had two horses, and a wagon without seats. Our driver proved to be an out-and-out revolutionist. He freely damned the army, the police, and every representative of the government. He even rebelled at sharing his seat with our guard, and tried to make him walk. He sympathized with all who fell under the finger of the authorities, whether for political or criminal offenses. Such recklessness of speech is unusual and is accounted for by the fact that this uncouth lout felt physically superior to the guard, and had little terror of his authority. A few versts out of the town he held his horses to a slow walk. “Why don’t you go faster?” we asked. “You’ll soon enough be under lock and key,” he answered cheerfully. “Make the most of the sunshine while you have it. God knows when you’ll get more of it.”