That same evening the two who on the previous day had opposed each other so strenuously concerning the att.i.tude to be adopted by the village--Wa.s.silj, the butcher, and Hritzko Pomenko--went from farm to farm, from cottage to cottage, evidently of one mind. "On account of the Whitecoats there can be no general meeting," they said; "but we ask you individually, Are you satisfied that tomorrow morning we should start for the mountains, to call hither Taras in the name of the community, for the avenging of this wrong? And do you pledge yourselves to help him?" Every one of the peasants a.s.sented, most of them readily, and some for very fear of the prevailing opinion. The horizon hung heavy with bursting clouds.

But the pope only heard of it when the two had started on the Tuesday, and the good man found himself in a painful plight. Should he inform the captain, causing more stringent measures to be adopted against the village, besides being the means of bringing two honest men to grievous punishment? Should he keep silence and let the mischief be done? He came to see that, of the two evils, this latter certainly was the worst, and therefore imparted to the officer what was brewing, but without mentioning names.

The captain smiled. "I know all about it," he said, "and more than you tell me. That corporal, Constantino Turenko, has been before you, embellishing his report, no doubt, with even more than the truth. But let me a.s.sure your reverence that my measures have been taken with the utmost circ.u.mspection; I hardly needed such information to be prepared for any exigency. I shall not have recourse to harsh treatment; and though that corporal has taken it upon himself so to advise me, I shall not prohibit the public funeral of the smith to-day."

But this mournful occasion brought no cause of disturbance. Nearly all the village attended, and Father Leo would fain have poured out his heart had the widow not begged him to forego the usual discourse. "My husband shall indeed have a funeral sermon by and by," she said, "not in words, but in gun-shots."

On the evening of this day, also, two men went the round of the village, Alexa Sembrow and Wilko Sembratowicz. "It has been announced,"

they said, "that to-morrow we have to expect a man of the law to take our deposition with regard to Taras's speech. Now Taras himself has desired us to make it known, but we consider the transactions of the general a.s.sembly are no lawyer's business, and we propose to refuse information. Do you agree?" which they all did, none having the slightest compunction on this point.

Whilst the inhabitants of Zulawce were thus preparing to circ.u.mvent the law after their own fashion, Mr. Ladislas Kap.r.o.nski, the district commissioner, with his office-clerk behind him, was being driven towards the contumacious parish. He was seated in an open car, an armed constable on either side of him, but nowise at his ease; indeed, so hara.s.sed was his appearance, that the simple country folk by the roadside, unable to guess at his position by his looks, kept wondering what so respectable an individual could have done to be taken to prison for! A coward every inch of him, he certainly did not show to advantage with an escort of constables about him.

Nor did the rising sun of another day enhance his spirits; for was he not approaching that desperate village? his craven imagination conjuring up the most lively scenes of the regiment being murdered to a man by that awful Taras. He quite gasped with relief on beholding some of the soldiers patrolling by the Pruth, and their leader, a sergeant, a.s.sured him, somewhat surprised, that the regiment, so far, was alive and the people tolerably quiet.

This account seemed cheering, and he fell to determining his mode of action. He would try, in the first place, to bully a.n.u.sia; for if the mandatar's advice in this respect was illegal, it was nevertheless useful, and this was not a case to stickle for technical correctness, when positively one's life was in danger, the amiable man said to himself. He instructed his driver, therefore, to put him down near Taras's farm; and, to the astonishment of the constables, he went on his errand alone. The beating of his heart was known to himself only.

"No doubt she is a termagant of a woman," he murmured, but face her he must.

He was fortunate in finding her alone in the common sitting-room. She gave a searching look at the man, who entered her presence with an uncertain step.

"I am the district commissioner," Kap.r.o.nski stammered.

"I am aware of the fact," said a.n.u.sia. "What may be your pleasure?"

Her manner was not exactly calculated to rouse any latent courage; nevertheless he gathered himself up with an effort, saying hastily: "I am the bearer of a message from the Board of magistrates. Your husband is a miscreant. Unfortunately we cannot just lay our hands on him; but you and your children and this farm are within our reach. If Taras dares hurt a hair of my head--of my head, do you hear?--or anybody else's, your property will be confiscated, and you shall answer for him to the law. We know you have communication with him; so just send him word!"

The woman had listened quietly--almost with indifference. "Yes, yes,"

she muttered, when he had finished, "I understand you! All right," she added aloud, "your message shall be delivered."

"Soon?"

"At once."

With this comfortable a.s.surance Kap.r.o.nski made all possible speed to regain his car. "So far, so good," he said, rejoicing, "a reasonable woman after all! I wonder if I had better have the place watched to find out how Taras is being communicated with; it might be an easy mode of discovering his whereabouts, and a feather in my cap with the Board.

But perhaps I had better not disturb the woman in sending so sensible a message!" And therewith he ordered his driver to take him to the judge's next.

But Jewgeni, unequal to the mental conflict of deciding whether his valiant brother or the will of the parish should prevail, had settled the question by beating his retreat to the public house at Zablotow.

Constantine, however, was at home, and readily dictated to the commissioner's clerk a towering heap of invectives against all authority, whether in heaven or on earth, declaring such to be a faithful report of Taras's speech. But he was the only witness forthcoming; what further deposition Kap.r.o.nski could procure was more amusing than valuable. Red Schymko, for instance, invited him politely to be seated, and then harangued him for an hour concerning Taras's personal appearance; but when desired to give his version of the speech in question, he protested with voluble regrets that his memory had failed him from the day he was born, and never a word could he remember. Most of the peasants, however, spurned the idea of thus humbugging the commissioner, flatly declaring they were no tell-tales.

The day pa.s.sed, and although Kap.r.o.nski had obtained nothing beyond the corporal's deposition, he decided, with the approach of evening, that he had better return now to those who had sent him. There was no time to be lost, if he meant to pa.s.s the most dangerous part of the way before nightfall.

The road from Zulawce to Zablotow runs at first along the Pruth, in a northerly direction, making a sudden bend eastward and traversing the plain. The commissioner's car had reached this bend, and daylight was fast vanishing, when one of the constables suddenly rose from his seat, giving a searching look across the river.

"What is it?" cried Kap.r.o.nski, clutching the man's arm; he was short-sighted, and could not see for himself.

"Some dozen hors.e.m.e.n," replied the constable, "Huzuls by the look of them--just bursting from yonder cover and making for the ford."

The commissioner could now distinguish the dark figures approaching.

"Let us return," he gasped.

"Impossible," declared the constables. "They will have crossed the river before we could out-flank them." Then to the driver: "Make what speed you can to Zablotow."

And the car shot on quick as lightning, pa.s.sing the fields of Debeslawce. But the sound of hoofs was carried after them; the hors.e.m.e.n had crossed the ford and were coming on in a quick gallop. The distance between them was fast lessening, and voices could be distinguished. The commissioner had closed his eyes, well-nigh swooning.

"Stop!" cried the men in pursuit. "Stop, or we shall fire!"

"Drive on!" urged the constables. But the car stopped, the coachman dropping the reins. "I have not undertaken to be killed like a dog," he muttered. "Besides, there is no escaping this Taras!"

Another moment and the hors.e.m.e.n were on the spot, surrounding the commissioner's party with pointed pistols. A dark-complexioned fellow, lithe and graceful, with the look of an eagle, appeared to be the leader. "Hand over your muskets," he ordered the constables, and they obeyed.

"You may take yourselves off, then; it is not you we want, only this gentleman of the quill. Be so good as to descend, Mr. Commissioner."

"For pity's sake," whined Kap.r.o.nski.

"We are not going to kill you," said the eagle-eyed leader, with a look of disdain. "Our orders are to take you to our captain, Taras, who wishes to speak to you. He would have come himself had it been worth his while. Have the goodness, then, to descend."

Seeing a pistol pointed at him, the commissioner could not but rise, yet his feet would not carry him, and he had to be lifted to the ground.

"Are you able to ride?" inquired the leader of the troop, beckoning at the same time to one of his men, who was holding a small, s.h.a.ggy horse by the bridle. "Taras is sure to regret that he cannot place a carriage at your disposal, but this animal won't throw you."

The commissioner groaned.

"Lift him into the saddle," commanded the leader, "and strap him fast.

Two of you take him between you."

It was done. The eagle-eyed chief nodded approvingly, and, turning to the constables and the clerk, he wished them good evening and a happy journey.

They drove on gladly enough, and, looking back presently, could see the mounted Huzuls disappearing in the shadows, the wretched commissioner in their midst.

CHAPTER XIV.

GATHERING STRENGTH.

The steep, narrow path which from Zulawce winds westward into the uplands, is not without danger to the pedestrian, but safe enough to the small, sure-footed mountain pony of the Huzuls. Here and there it takes you into one of those cool, dusky clefts which separate the terraced heights, leading for the most part straight across the mountains, so that each sudden rise is succeeded by an equally precipitous descent, and the traveller would hardly imagine he were nearing the very top of the chain, if every successive ridge he gained did not show him a wider and more glorious expanse of the plain left behind. For the view is open from every summit where the growing copse wood is swept away or kept low by the terrific eastern gales which burst upon these elevated regions from the broad level between the Dniester and the Don; tall bracken and giant trees closing in the path elsewhere, one particular spot excepted, where it winds between bare rocks of a brownish yellow and strangely shaped.

This is the Red Hollow, some half-day's journey from Zulawce.

Traversing it, you would most likely follow the main path, westward still, to the Black Water and into the Marmaros beyond; indeed, few travellers, on reaching the centre of this rocky glen, where beneath a stunted fir a small red cross is to be seen, would strike off at right angles on what could scarcely be called a path. It is the poorest of tracks, now ascending boldly, now descending abruptly amid boulders and crumbling stones; and the traveller who loves his life, having ventured so far, would do well to surrender himself to the safer instincts of his pony. It is a desperate attempt at best; but whoever has dared it will remember it with rapture. For having traversed a wilderness of nature's _debris_, you pa.s.s a rocky entrance overlooking a valley, the very home of beauty bright and still, wondrously fair, and its like hardly to be found even amid the glories of the Carpathians.

Lovely beech woods enclose a small lake of clearest blue; the sheltered slopes around are covered with wild flowers, in a profusion which is rare even in the lower valleys; and between bright leaves, in due season, the luscious, deep-coloured strawberries abound. Eastward the lake has an outlet, a tumbling brook making its way through a narrow cleft towards the Pruth, while all around from the slopes silvery rills come down, just ruffling the blue mirror which receives them. Above and beyond, this gem of mountain scenery is overhung with rugged peaks and solemn fir woods, looking down in proud protection upon this most favoured spot. The people round about have learned to call it again by its ancient name, "The Crystal Springs;" but in the days we write of it came to be known as "The Waters of Taras."

Here was his camp--hither he brought his men on that Palm Sunday of 1839.

The place was well chosen, secluded enough for safety, except in case of treason; a natural fastness, too, which could be held against almost any attack, and yet not far from the lowlands, for in following that outlet of the lake the sedgy banks of the Pruth might be reached in three hours. Moreover, the Red Hollow and its neighbourhood is the best-stocked hunting ground in these game-haunts; a fact not to be overlooked by a captain of outlaws, determined to make honest provision for his men.

For the matter of that, however, it seemed at first as though Taras, apart from this, need never be at a loss how to feed his men. The news of his arrival by the Crystal Springs had scarcely had time to spread before the dwellers in the glens round about arrived with a friendly greeting of bread, sheep's flesh, b.u.t.ter, and milk for the new neighbour. Taras knew what such hospitality cost these people, and he had money enough and to spare; but he could not refuse their gifts, well aware that they would look upon it as an insult to be resented.

Nor was he pleased that their young men should offer to join him, bold and fearless as they were, huntsmen and shepherds of the mountain wilds, accustomed to any hardship, and seasoned to any storm. Their sympathy with the avenger was more the love of fighting than anything else; but they were honest, and Taras knew they would not forsake him in any plight, still less play him false in trouble. Nevertheless, to most of them he turned a deaf ear. He knew that these half-savage hordes were strangers to common obedience; he could never have trained them to the discipline he intended to uphold, and though he might perchance have taught them to respect property, he knew there was no trusting them with defenceless women anywhere.