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THE MAGICIAN Fir-Fu,—Page 138.

CASSAR CASCABEL

BY

JULES VERNE

AUTHOR OF ‘‘ MICHAEL STROGOFF, THE COURIER OF THE
CZAR,” ‘‘ AROUND THE WORLD IN EIGHTY
DAYS; PETC., BIC,

TRANSLATED FROM THE FRENCH BY

AVES LOCLES

ILLUSTRATED BY

GEORGE ROUX

NEW YORK
CASSELL PUBLISHING COMPANY

104 & 106 FouRTH AVENUE

COPYRIGHT,

1890,
By CASSELL PUBLISHING COMPANY.

All rights reserved.

THE MERSHON COMPANY PRESS,
RAHWAY, N. J-

CHAPTER

I.
Il.

CON FEN TS:

PART. I.

——-

A FORTUNE REALIZED, .

THE CASCABEL FAMILY,

THE SreRRA NEVADA,

A GREAT RESOLUTION,

ON THE ROAD,

THE JOURNEY CONTINUED,
THROUGH CARIBOO,

KNAVES’ VILLAGE,

Can’r Pass THROUGH !

KAYETTE,

SITKA, : ;

From SITKA TO ForT YUKON, .
CORNELIA CASCABEL HAS AN IDEA,
From Fort YUKON TO PorRT CLARENCE,
Port CLARENCE, ‘ :
FAREWELL TO THE NEW CONTINENT,

PART. TT:

—_—_—_—

BEHRING’S STRAIT,
BETWEEN TWO CURRENTS, .
ADRIFT, . : ; : - :

FROM THE 16th OF NOVEMBER TO THE 2d OF DECEMBER,

iil

665911

181
196
210
222

iv
CHAPTER
V.
sph
VII.

CONTENTS:

LIAKHOF ISLANDS, . ; . : : : 5 ;

IN WINTER QUARTERS,

A Goop TRICK OF Mrs. CASCABEL’S,

THE COUNTRY OF THE IAKOUTS,

RIGHT ON TO THE OBI,

FROM THE OBI TO THE URAL MOUNTAINS,

THE URAL MOUNTAINS,

A JouRNEY’s END WHICH IS NOT THE END,

An ENDLEss Day,

A DENOUEMENT WARMLY APPLAUDED BY THE SPEC-
TATORS,

CONCLUSION,

:

CA2a ik, CAsGYbel:

PAR 1, £:

CHAPTER I.

A FORTUNE REALIZED.

“TLTAS nobody got any more coppers to giveme? Come,

children, search your pockets!”’

“Here you are, father!’’ replied the little girl.

And she drew out of her pocket a square-cut piece of
greenish paper, all crumpled and greasy.

This paper bore the almost illegible inscription ‘‘ United
States Fractional Currency,” encircling the respectable-look-
ing head of a gentleman in a frock-coat, and likewise the
figure ro repeated six times,—which represented ten cents,
say about ten French sous.

‘“How did you come by that?’’ inquired the mother.

‘*Tt’s the remnant of the takings at the last performance,’’
answered Napoleona.

““Gave me everything, Sander?’’

Ves, father.””’

“Nothing left, John?’’

“Nothing.”’

“‘Why, how much more do you want, Cesar?’’ asked
Cornelia of her husband.

““Two cents is all we want to make up a round sum,’’
replied Cascabel.

“Here they are, boss,’

said Clovy, jerking up a small
I

2 CAESAR CASCABEL.

copper coin that he had just worked out from the depths
of his waistcoat pocket.

‘*‘Well done, Clovy!’’ exclaimed the little girl.

‘*That’s right! now we’re all square,”’ cried Mr. Cascabel.

And they were indeed ‘‘all square,’’ to use the words of .
the honest showman. ‘The total in hands amounted to
nearly two thousand dollars, say ten thousand francs. Ten
thousand francs! Is not such a sum a fortune, when it has
been earned out of the public through one’s own talents only?

Cornelia put her arms around her husband’s neck; the
children embraced-him in their turn.

‘*Now,’’ said Mr. Cascabel, ‘‘the question is to buy a
chest, a beautiful chest with secret contrivances, to lock up
our fortune in it.”’

“‘Can’t we really do without it?’’ suggested Mrs. Casca-
bel, somewhat alarmed at this expenditure.

**Cornelia, we cannot!”’

*“Perhaps a little box might do us?—’’

““That’s woman all over!’’ sneered Mr. Cascabel. ‘A
little box is meant for jewels! A chest, or at least a safe,
that’s the thing for money! And as we have a long way to
go with our ten thousand francs—"’

‘Well then, go and buy your safe, but take care you get
a good bargain,”’ interrupted Cornelia.

The “‘boss of the show’’ opened the door of that ‘‘superb
and consequential’? wagon, his itinerant dwelling-house; he
went down the iron step fastened to the shaft, and made for
the streets that converge toward the center of Sacramento.

February is a cold month in California, although this State
lies in the same latitude as Spain. Still, wrapped up in his
warm overcoat lined with imitation sable, and with his fur
cap drawn down to his ears, Mr. Cascabel little cared about
the weather, and tripped it lightly. A safe! being the
owner of a safe had been his life-long dream; that dream
was on the point of being realized at last!

‘‘JusT THE THING.” —Page 5.

A FORTUNE REALIZED. 3

Nineteen years before, the land now occupied by the
town of Sacramento was but avast barren plain. In the
middle stood a small fort, a kind of block-house erected by
the early settlers, the first traders, with a view to protect
their encampments against the attacks of the Far West In-
dians. But since that time, after the Americans had taken
California from the Mexicans, who were incapable of de-
fending it, the aspect of the country had undergone a singu-
lar transformation. ‘The small fort had made way for a
town,—one of the most important in the United States,
although fire and flood had, more than once, destroyed the
rising city.

Now, in this year 1867, Mr. Cascabel had no longer to
dread the raids of Indian tribes, or even the attacks of that
lawless mob of cosmopolitan banditti who invaded the proy-
ince in 1849 on the discovery of the gold mines which lay
a little farther to the northeast, on the Grass Valley plateau,
and of the famous Allison ranch mine, the quartz of which
yielded twenty cents’ worth of the precious metal for every
two pound weight.

Yes, those days of unheard-of strokes of fortune, of
unspeakable reverses, of nameless sorrows, were over. No
more gold-seekers, not even in that portion of British Colum-
bia, the Cariboo, to which thousands of miners flocked, about
1863. No longer was Mr. Cascabel exposed, on his travels,
to being robbed of that Jittle fortune which he had earned,
well might it be said, in the sweat of his body, and that he
carried in the pocket of his overcoat. In truth, the purchase
of a safe was not so indispensable to the security of his
fortune as he claimed it to be; if he was so desirous to
get one, it was with an eye to a long journey through certain
Far West territories that were less safe than California,
—his journey homeward toward Europe.

Thus easy in his mind, Mr. Cascabel wended his way
through the wide, clean streets of the town, Here and

+ CAESAR CASCABEL.

there were splendid squares, overhung with beautiful,
though still leafless, trees, hotels and private dwellings built
with much elegance and comfort, public edifices in the
Anglo-Saxon style of architecture, a number of monumental
churches, all giving an air of grandeur to this, the capital
town of California. On all sides bustled busy looking men,
merchants, ship-owners, manufacturers, some awaiting the
arrival of vessels that sailed up and down the river whose
waters flow to the Pacific, others besieging Folsom depot,
from which numerous trains steamed away to the interior of
the Confederacy.

It was toward High Street that Mr. Cascabel directed his
steps, whistling a French march as he went along. . In
this street he had already noticed the store of a rival of
Fichet & Huret, the celebrated Parisian safe-makers,
There did William J. Morlan sell ‘‘good and cheap,’’—
at least, relatively so,—considering the excessive price
that is charged for everything in the United States of
America.

William J. Morlan was in his store when Mr. Cascabel
came in.

‘‘Mr. Morlan,’’ said the latter, ‘‘your humble servant.
I'd like to buy a safe.’”’

William J. Morlan knew Cesar Cascabel: was there a
man in Sacramento who did not? Had he not been, for
three weeks past, the delight of the population? So, the
worthy manufacturer made answer:

““A safe, Mr. Cascabel?—Pray accept all my congratula-
tions—”’

“What for?’’

“Because buying a safe is a sure sign that aman has a
few sackfuls of dollars to make safe in it.’’

“Right you are, Mr. Morlan.’’

‘Well, take this one;’’ and the merchant’s finger pointed
to a huge safe, worthy of a site in the offices of Rothschild

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BY OURSELVES,” —Fage 7.

A FORTUNE REALIZED. 5

Brothers or other such bankers, people who have enough
and to spare.

‘*Come—not so fast!’’ said Mr. Cascabel. ‘‘I could take
lodgings in there for myself and family!—A real gem, to be
sure; but for the time being, I’ve got something else to
lodge in it!—Say, Mr. Morlan, how much money could be
stored inside that monster?”’

‘*Several millions in gold.’’

‘Several millions?—Well then—I’ll call again—some
other day, when I have them! No, sir, what I want is a
really strong little chest that I can carry under my arm and
hide away down in my wagon when I am on the road.”’

‘T have just the thing, Mr. Cascabel.”’

And the manufacturer exhibited a small coffer supplied
with a safety lock. It was not over twenty pounds in
weight, and had compartments inside, after the manner of
the cash or deed boxes used in banking-houses.

‘‘This, moreover, is fireproof,’’ added he, ‘‘and I war-
rant it as such on the receipt I give you.”’

‘‘Very good!—can’t be better!’’ answered Mr. Cascabel.
‘‘That will do me, so long as you guarantee the lock is all
right.”’

“Tt is a combination lock,’’ interrupted William J. Mor-
lan. ‘‘Four letters—a word of four letters, to be made out
of four alphabets, which gives you well-nigh four hundred
thousand combinations. During the time it would take a
thief to guess them, you might hang him a million times at
your ease!’’

‘“A million times, Mr. Morlan? That’s wonderful in-
deed! And what about the price? You'll understand, a
safe is too dear when it costs more than a man has to put
in it!’’

“Quite so, Mr. Cascabel. And all I'll ask you for this
one is six and a half.”’

“Six and a half dollars?’’ rejoined Cascabel, ‘‘I don’t

6 CHESAR CASCABEL.

care for that ‘six and a half.’ Come, Mr. Morlan, we must
knock the corners off that sum! Is it a bargain at five dol-
lars straight?"’

‘‘T don’t mind, because it is you, Mr. Cascabel.”’

The purchase was made, the money was paid down, and
W. J. Morlan offered to the showman to have his safe
brought home for him, so as not to trouble him with such a
burden.

‘Come, come, Mr. Morlan! A man like your humble
servant who juggles with forty-pounders!”’

‘‘Say—what is the exact weight of your forty-pounders,
eh?” inquired Mr. Morlan with a laugh.

‘‘Just fifteen pounds, but—mum’s the word!”’

Thereupon William J. Morlan and his customer parted,
delighted with each other.

Half an hour later, the happy possessor of the safe reached
Circus Place where his wagon stood, and laid down, not
without a feeling of complacency, ‘‘the safe of the Casca-
bel firm.’”’

Ah! how admired was that safe in its little world! What
joy and pride all felt at having it! And how the hinges
were worked with the opening and the shutting of it!
Young Sander would have dearly liked to dislocate himself
into it—just for fun. But that was not to be thought of; it
was too small for young Sander! y

As to Clovy, never had he seen anything so beautiful,
even in dreamland.

‘I guess, that lock’s no easy job to open,’’ exclaimed
he, ‘‘unless it’s mighty easy if it doesn’t shut right!”

‘‘Never a truer word did you speak,’’ answered Mr. Cas-
cabel.

Then, in that authoritative tone of voice that brooks no
arguing, and with one of those significant gestures which
forbid of any delaying:

‘Now, children, off you go, the shortest cut,’’ said he,

A FORTUNE REALIZED. 7

‘and fetch us a breakfast—A1! Here is a dollar you can
spend as you like—It’s I will stand the treat to-day !’’

Good soul! As though it were not he who “‘stood the
treat’’ every day! But he was fond of this kind of joking,
which he indulged in with a good genial chuckle.

In a trice, John, Sander, and Napoleona were off, accom-
panied by Clovy, who carried on his arm a large straw basket
for the provisions.

‘‘And now we are alone, Cornelia, let us have a few
words,’’ said the boss.

‘‘What about, Czesar?’’

‘‘What about? Why, about the word we are going to
choose for the lock of our safe. It is not that I don’t trust
the children—Good Lord! ‘They are angels!—or that poor
fellow Clovy, who is honesty itself! None the less, that
must be kept a secret.’”’

‘‘Take what word you like,’’ answered the wife; ‘‘I’ll
agree to anything you say.’’

‘‘You have no choice?”’

jak, haven't.”

‘Well, I should like it to be a proper name.”

““Ves!—lI got it—your own name, Cesar.”

“That can’t be! Mine is too long! It must be a word
of four letters only.”

‘‘Well then, take one letter off! Surely you can spell
Cesar without anv! We are free to do as we like, I dare
say!’’

“Bravo, Cornelia! That’s an idea!—One of those ideas
you often hit on, wifie! But if we decide on cutting one
letter out of a name, I’d rather cut out four, and let it be
out of yours!” k

“Out of my name?”’

“Yes! And we’d keep the end of it—elia. Indeed, I
rather think it would be more select that way; so, it will he
just the thing!”

8 CESAR CASCABEL.

“Ah! Cesar!”’

‘‘It will please you, wont it, to have your name on the
lock of our safe?”’

“Tt will, since it is in your heart already
Cornelia, with loving emphasis.

Then, her face beaming with pleasure, she gave a hearty
kiss to her good-natured husband.

And that is how, in consequence of this arrangement, any
one, unacquainted with the name Elia, would be baffled in
his attempts to open the safe of the Cascabel family.

Half an hour after, the children were back with the pro-
visions, ham and salt beef, cut in appetizing slices, not for-
getting a few of those wonderful outgrowths of Californian
vegetation, heads of cabbage grown on tree-like stalks, pota-
toes as large as melons, carrots half a yard long and
‘‘equaled only,’’ Mr. Cascabel was fond of saying, **by those
leeks that you make people swallow, without having the
trouble of growing them?’’ As to drink, the only puzzle
was which to choose among the varieties that nature and art
offer to American thirsty lips. On this occasion, not to
mention a jugful of beer with a head on it, each one was to
have his share of a good bottle of sherry, at dessert.

In the twinkling of an eye, Cornelia, aided by Clovy, her
usual help, had prepared breakfast. The table was laid in
the second compartment of the van, styled the family par-
lor, where the temperature was maintained at the right
degree by the cooking-stove set up in the next room. If,
on that day,—as on every day indeed,—father, mother, and
children ate with remarkably keen appetite, the fact was
but too easily accounted for by the circumstances.

Breakfast over, Mr. Cascabel, assuming the solemn tone
that he gave to his utterances when he spoke to the public,
expressed himself as follows:

‘To-morrow, children, we shall have bidden farewell to
this noble town of Sacramento, and to its noble citizens,

??

answered

A FORTUNE REALIZED. 9

with all of whom we have every reason to be satisfied, what-
ever be their complexion, red, black or white. But, Sacra-
mento is in California, and California is in America, and
America is not in Europe. Now, home is home, and Europe
is France; and it is not a day too soon, that France should see
us once more ‘within its walls,’ after a prolonged absence of
many a year. Have we made a fortune? Properly speak-
ing, we have not. Still, we have in hands a certain quan-
tity of dollars that will look uncommonly well in our safe,
when we have changed them into French gold or silver. A
portion of this sum will enable us to cross the Atlantic Ocean
on one of those swift vessels that fly the three-colored flag
once borne by Napoleon from capital to capital.—Your
health, Cornelia!”’

Mrs. Cascabel acknowledged with a bow this token of
good feeling which her husband often gave her, as though
he meant to thank her for having presented him with Alcides
and Hercules in the persons of his children.

Then, the speaker proceeded:

“‘T likewise drink ‘safe home’ to us all! May favorable
winds swell our sails!’’

He paused to pour to each one a last glass of his excel-
lent sherry.

“But then,—Clovy may say to me, perhaps,—once our
passage-money paid, there will be nothing left in the safe?’’

*“No such thing, boss,—unless the passage-money added
on to the railway fares—”’

““Railways, railroads, as the Yankees say!’’ cried Mr. Cas-
cabel. ‘‘Why, you simpleton, you thoughtless fellow, we
shan't use them! I quite intend saving the traveling ex-
penses from Sacramento to New York by covering the dis-
tance on our own wheels! A few hundred leagues! I
guess it would take more than that to frighten the Cascabel
family, accustomed as it is to disport itself from one world's
end to the other!”’

10 CAESAR CASCABEL.

‘““Of course!’’ John chimed in. é .
‘And how glad we shall be to see France again:”” ex-
claimed Mrs. Cascabel. '

“Our old France that you don’t know, my children,”
continued Mr. Cascabel, ‘‘ since you were born in America,
our beautiful France that you shall know at last. Ah, Cor-
nelia, what pleasure it will be for you, a child of Provence,
and for me, a son of Normandy, after twenty years’
absence!” .

“Tt will, Caesar, it will!’’

‘Do you know, Cornelia? If I were to be offered an engage-
ment now, even at Barnum’s theater, I shouldsay no! Put-
ting off our journey home, never! I'd rather go on all
fours!—It’s homesick we are, and what’s needed for that
ailment is a trip home!—I know:of no other cure!”’

Ceesar Cascabel spoke truly. His wife and he no longer
cherished but one thought: returning to France; and what
bliss it was to be able to do so, now that there was no lack
of money!

‘So then, we start to-morrow!’’ said Mr. Cascabel.

‘*And it may be our last trip!’’ remarked Cornelia.

‘‘Cornelia,’’ her husband said with dignity, ‘‘the only last
trip I know of is the one for which God issues no return
ticket!”’

‘“‘Tust so, Cesar, but before that one, shan’twe have a
rest, when we have made our fortune?”

‘‘A rest, Cornelia? Never! I don’t want any of your
fortune, if fortune means doing nothing! Do you think you
have a right to lay those talents idly by, that nature has so
freely lavished on you? Do you imagine I could live with
folded arms and run the risk of letting my joints grow stiff?
Do you see John giving up his work as an equilibrist,
Napoleona ceasing to dance on the tight rope with or with-
out a pole, Sander standing no more on top of the human
pyramid, and Clovy himself no longer receiving his half-

THE CASCABEL FAMILY. it

dozen slaps on his cheeks per minute, to the great gratifica-
tion of the public? No, Cornelia! ‘ell me that the sun’s
light will be put out by the rain, that the sea will be drunk
by the fishes, but do not tell me that the hour of rest will
ever strike for the Cascabel family!’’

And now, there was nothing more to do but to make the
final arrangements for setting out, next morning, as soon as
the sun would peep over the horizon of Sacramento.

This was done in the course of the afternoon.

Needless to say the safe was placed out of the way, in the
furthest compartment of the wagon.

‘In this room,’’ said Mr. Cascabel, ‘‘we shall be able to
watch it night and day!”’

“Really, Cesar, I think that was a good idea of yours,’’
remarked Cornelia, ‘‘and I don’t begrudge the money we
spent on the safe.”’

“It may be rather small, perhaps, wifie, but we shall buy
a bigger one, if our treasure takes larger proportions!’’

CHAP EER IT.
THE CASCABEL FAMILY.

ASCABEL!—A name, you might say, ‘‘pealed and
chimed on all the tongues of fame,’’ throughout the
five parts of the globe, and “‘other localities,’’ proudly
added the man who bore that patronymic so honorably.
Czesar Cascabel, a native of Pontorson, right in the heart
of Normandy, was a master in all the dodges, knacks, and
trickeries of Norman folks. But, sharp and knowing as he
was, he had remained an honest man, and it were not right
to confound him with the too often suspicious members of
the juggling confraternity; in him, humbleness of birth and
professional irregularities were fully redeemed by the private
virtues of the head of the family circle,

’9

12 CAESAR CASCABEL.

At this period, Mr. Cascabel looked his age, forty-five, not
a day more or less. A child of the road in the full accepta-
tion of the word, his only cradle had been the pack that his
father shouldered as he tramped along from fairs to markets
throughout Normandy. His mother having died shortly
after his coming into the world, he had been very oppor-

tunely adopted by a traveling troupe on the death of his -

father, a few years after. With them he spent his youth in
tumbles, contortions and somersaults, his head down and
his feet in the air. Then he became in turn a clown, a
gymnast, an acrobat, a Hercules at country fairs,—until the
time when, the father of three children, he appointed him-
self manager of the little family he had brought out con-
jointly with Mrs. Cascabel, zée Cornelia Vadarasse, all the
way from Martigues in Provence (France).

An intelligent and ingenious man, if on the one hand his
muscle and his skill were above the common, his moral
worth was in no way inferior to his physical abilities. Truk,
a rolling stone gathers no moss; but, at least, it rubs against
the rough knobs on the road, it gets polished, its angles are
smoothed off, it grows round and shiny. Even so, in the
course of the twenty-five years that he had been rolling
along, Caesar Cascabel had rubbed so hard, had got so thor-
oughly polished and rounded off, that he knew about all
that can be known of life, felt surprised at nothing, won-
dered at nothing. By dint of roughing it through Europe
from fair to fair, and acclimatizing himself quite as readily
in America as in the Dutch or the Spanish Colonies, he well-
nigh understood all languages, and spoke them more or less
- accurately, “‘even those he did not know,” as he used to
say, for it was no trouble to him to express his meaning by
gestures whenever his power of speech failed him.

Cesar Cascabel was a trifle above the middle height; his
body was muscular; his limbs were ‘‘well oiled’; his lower
jaw, somewhat protruding, indicated energy; his head

99

GEORGE ROUX PHOTO.

THE Boss OF THE SHOW.—/aoge 12.

THE CASCABEL FAMILY. 13

was large, and shagged over with bushy hair, his skin mar-
bled by the sun of every clime, tanned by the squalls of
every sea; he wore a mustache cut short at the ends, and
half-length whiskers shaded his ruddy cheeks; his nose was
rather full; he had blue eyes glowing with life and very
keen, with a look of kindness in them; his mouth would
have boasted thirty-three teeth still, had he got one put in.
Before the public, he was a real Frederic Lemaitre, a trage-
dian with grand gestures, affected poses, and oratorical sen-
tences, but in private, a very simple, very natural man,
who doted on his wife and children.

Blessed with a constitution that could stand anything,
although his advancing years now forbade him all acrobatic
performances, he was still wonderful in those displays of
strength that ‘‘require biceps.’’ He was possessed, more-
over, of extraordinary talent in that branch of the show-
man’s profession, the science of the engastrimuth or ven-
triloquism, a science which goes back a good many cen-
turies if, as Bishop Eustachius asserts, the pythoness of
Edon was nothing more than a ventriloquist. At his will
his vocal apparatus slipped down from his throat to his
stomach. You wonder if he could have sung a duet, all by
himself? Well, you had better not have challenged him to!

To give one last stroke to this picture, let us notice that
Czesar Cascabel had a weakness for the great conquerors of
history in general, and for Napoleon in particular. Yes!
He did love the hero of the first Empire just as much as he
hated his ‘‘tormentors,’’ those sons of Hudson Lowe, those
abominable John Bulls. Napoleon! That was ‘‘the man
for him!’’ Wherefore he had never consented to perform
before the Queen of England, ‘‘although she had requested
_ him to do so through her first Steward of the Household,”’
a statement he had made so earnestly and so repeatedly that
he had eventually acquired a belief in it, himself.

And still, Mr, Cascabel was no circus manager; no Fran-

14 CAESAR CASCABEL.

coni was he with a troupe of horsemen and women, of
clowns and jugglers. By no means. He was merely a
showman, performing on the public commons in the open
air when the weather was fine, and under a tent when it
rained. At this business, of which he had known the ups
and downs for a quarter of a century, he had earned, as we
know, the goodly lump sum just now put away in the safe
with the combination lock.

What labor, what toils, what misery at times, had gone to
the making up of this sum! The hardest was now over.
The Cascabels were preparing to return to Europe. After
they had crossed the United States, they would take
passage on a French or an American vessel,—an English
one—no, never!

As to that, Czesar Cascabel never let himself be beaten
by anything. Obstacles were a myth for him. Difficulties,
at most, did turn up on his path; but, extricating, disen-
tangling himself through life was his speciality. He had
gladly repeated the words of the Duke of Dantzic, one of
the marshals of his great man:

““You make a hole for me, and I’ll make my way
through it.’’

And many indeed were the holes he had wriggled through!

‘*Mrs. Cascabel, née Cornelia Vadarasse, a genuine native
of Provence, the unequaled clairvoyant of things to come,
the queen of electrical women, adorned with all the charms
of her sex, graced with all the virtues that are a mother’s
pride, the champion of the great female tournaments to
which Chicago challenged the ‘first athletes of the uni-
werse, *”

Such were the terms in which Mr. Cascabel usually intro-
duced his wife to the public. Twenty years before, he had
married her in New York. Had he taken his father’s
advice in the matter? He had not! Firstly, he said,

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JOHN CASCABEL.—Page 17.

THE CASCABEL FAMILY 15

because his father had not consulted him in reference to his
own wedding, and, secondly, because the worthy man was no
longer on this.planet. And the thing had been done ina
very simple way, i can tell you, and without any of those
preliminary formalities which, in Europe, prove such draw-
backs to the speedy union of two beings predestined for one
another.

One evening, at Barnum’s theater in Broadway, where he
was one of the spectators, Caesar Cascabel was dazzled by
the charms, the agility and the strength shown in horizontal
bar exercises by a young French acrobat, Mlle. Cornelia
Vadarasse.

Associating his own talents with those of this graceful per-
former, of their two lives making but one, foreseeing yonder
in the future a family of little Cascabels worthy of their
father and mother, all this appeared as if mapped out before
the honest showman’s eye. Rushing behind the scenes
between two acts, introducing himself to Cornelia Vadarasse
with the fairest proposals in view of the wedding of a French- .
man and a Frenchwoman; then, eyeing a respectable clergy-
man in the audience, hauling him off to the green-room and
asking him*to bless the union of so well-matched a couple, that
is all that was needed in that happy land of the United States
of America. Do those life-contracts, sealed with full steam
on, turn out the worse for it?) Be the answer what it may,
the union of Cascabel and Cornelia Vadarasse was to be one
of the happiest ever celebrated in this nether world.

At the time when our story begins, Mrs. Cascabel was
forty years old. She had a fine figure, rather stoutish per-
haps, dark hair, dark eyes, a smiling mouth, and, like her
husband, a good show of teeth. As to her uncommon mus-
cular strength, she had proved it in those memorable Chi-
cago encounters, where she had won a ‘‘Chignon of honor’’
asa prize. Let us add that Cornelia still loved her hus-
band as she did on the first day, feeling as she did an

16 CESAR CASCABEL.

unshakable trust, an absolute faith in the genius of this
extraordinary man, one of the most remarkable beings ever
produced by Normandy.

The first-born of our itinerant performers was a boy,
John, now nineteen years old. If he did not take after his
parents with regard to muscle or to the performances of a
gymnast, an acrobat or a clown, he showed his true blood
by a wonderfully dexterous hand and an eye ever sure of
its aim, two gifts that made him a graceful, elegant juggler.
Nor was his success marred with self-conscious pride. He
was a gentle, thoughtful youth with blue eyes, and dark-com-
plexioned like his mother. Studious and reserved, he
sought to improve himself wherever and whenever he could.
Though not ashamed of his parents’ profession, he felt there
was something better to do than performing in public, and
he looked forward to giving up the craft as soon as he
would be in France. At the same time his genuine love for
his father and his mother prompted him to keep extremely
reserved on this subject; indeed, besides, what prospects
had he of making another position for himself in the world?

Then, there was the second boy, the last but one of the
children, the contortionist of the troupe. He was really the
logical joint-product of the Cascabel couple. Twelve years
old, as nimble as a cat, as handy as a monkey, as lively as
an eel, a little three-foot-six clown who had tumbled into
this world heels over head, so his father said, a real gamzn
as ready-witted as full of fun and frolic, and a good heart
withal, sometimes deserving of a thump on his head, but
taking it with a grin, for it was never a very hard one.

It was stated above that the eldest scion of the Cascabels
was called John. Whence came this name? The mother -
had insisted upon it in memory of one of her grand-uncles,
Jean Vadarasse, a sailor from Marseilles, who had been
eaten by the Caribbean islanders, an exploit she was proud
of, To be sure, the father who had the good luck to have

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CLOVY AND NAPOLEONA.—fage 17.

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THE CASCABEL FAMILY. 17

been christened Cesar, would have preferred another name,
one better known in history and more in accordance with
his secret admiration for warriors. But he was unwilling to
thwart his wife’s wishes on the advent of their _first-
born, and he had accepted the name John, promising
himself to make up for it, should a second heir be born
to him.

This event came to pass, and the second son was called
Alexander, after having a narrow escape of being named
Hamilcar, Attila, or Hannibal. For shortness sake, how-
ever, he was familiarly known as Sander.

After the first and the second boy, the family circle was
joined by a little girl who received the name of Napoleona,
in honor of the martyr at St. Helena, although Mrs. Casca-
bel would have loved to call her Hersilla.

Napoleona was now eight years old. She was a pretty
child, with every promise of growing to be a handsome girl,
and a handsome girl she did become. Fair and rosy, with
a bright, animated countenance, graceful and clever, she
had mastered the art of tight-rope walking; her tiny feet
seemed to glide along the wire for play, as though the little
sylph had had wings to bear her up.

It were idle to say Napoleona was the spoilt child of the
family. She was worshipped by all, and she was fit to be.
Her mother fondly cherished the thought that she would
make a grand match some day. Is not that one of the con-
tingencies of these people’s nomadic life? Why might not
Napoleona, grown up into a handsome young girl, come
across a prince who would fall in love with her, and marry
her?

“‘Just as in fairy tales?’’ Mr. Cascabel would suggest, his
turn of mind being more practical than his wife’s.

*‘No, Cesar, just as in real life.’’

‘“‘Alas, Cornélia, the time is gone when kings married
shepherdesses, and, my word! in these days of ours, I have

18 CAESAR CASCABEL.

yet to know that shepherdesses would consent to marry

kmgs!”’

Such was the Cascabel family, father, mother and three
children. It might have been better perhaps, if a fourth
olive branch had increased the number, seeing there are
certain human-pyramid exercises in which the artists climb
on top of each other in even numbers. But this fourth
member did not appear.

Luckily, Clovy was there, the very man to lend a hand
on extraordinary occasions.

In truth, Clovy was the complement of the Cascabels.
He was not one of the show, he was one of the family; and
he had every claim to the membership, an American though
he was by birth. He was one of those poor wretches, one of
those ‘‘nobody’s children,’’ born Heaven knows where,—
they hardly know it themselves,—brought up by charity, fed
as luck will have it, and taking the right road in life, if they
happen to be rightly inclined, if their innate sense of what
is good enables them to resist the evil examples and the evil
promptings of their miserable surroundings. And should
we not feel,some pity for these unfortunates if, in the
majority of cases, they are led to evil deeds, and come to an
evil end?

Such was not the case with Ned Harley, on whom Mr,
Cascabel had thought it funny to bestow the name of Clovy.
And why? First, because he had as much spare fat about
him as a dried clove; second, because he was engaged to
receive, during the ‘‘parades,’’ a greater number of five-
fingered stingers than any cruciferous shrub could produce
of cloves in a year!

Two years before, when Mr. Cascabel lighted upon him,
in his round through the States, the unfortunate man was at

death’s door through starvation. ‘The troupe of acrobats, -

to which he belonged, had just broken up, the manager
having run away. With them, he was in the ‘‘minstrels,’’ a

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THE CASCABEL FAMILY. 19

sad business, even when it manages to pay, or nearly so, for
the food of the wretch who plies it! Daubing your face
with boot-blacking, ‘‘niggering’’ yourself, as they say; put-
ting on a black coat and pants, a white vest and necktie;
then singing stupid songs whilst scraping on a ludicrous
fiddle in company with four or five outcasts of your kin,
what a position that is in society! Well, Ned Harley had
just lost that social position; and he was but too happy to
meet Providence on his path, in the person of Mr. Cas-
cabel.

It happened just then that the latter had lately dismissed
the artist who generally played the clown in the parade
scenes. . Will it ever be believed? ‘This clown had passed
himself off as an American, 2nd was in reality of English
origin! A John Bullinthe troupe! A countryman of those
heartless tormentors who—The rest of the story is known.
One .day, by mere chance, Mr. Cascabel heard of the
intruder’s nationality.

“‘Mr. Waldurton,’’ said he to him, ‘“‘since you are an
Englishman, you'll take yourself off this very moment,
or else it’s not my hand on your face you shall get, a clown
though you be!”’

And aclown though he was, it is the tip of a boot he
would have felt if he had not disappeared instantly.

It was then that Clovy stepped into the vacant berth.
The late ‘‘minstrel’’ now engaged himself as a ‘‘man of all
work’’; he would perform on the boards, groom the horses,
or, just as readily, do the kitchen work, whenever the mis-
tress needed a helping hand. Naturally, he spoke French,
but with a very strong accent.

He still was, on the whole, a simple-minded fellow,
though now five-and-thirty years of age, as full of mirth
when he gratified the public with his drolleries as he was
melancholy in private life. He was rather inclined to view
things on their dark side; and, to be candid, that was not

20 CAESAR CASCABEL.

to be wondered at, for it would have been hard for him to
look upon himself as one of the favored ones here below.
With his tapering head, his long-drawn face, his yellowish
hair, his round, sheepish eyes, his phenomenal nose on
which he was able to place half a dozen pairs of spectacles,
a great source of laughter,—his flabby ears, his long neck
like a stork’s, his thin body stuck up on skeleton legs, he
looked indeed a strange being. Still, he was not a man to
complain, unless—this was his favorite way of qualifying a
statement,—unless ill-luck gave him cause to complain. In
addition, ever since his joining the Cascabels, he had
become greatly attached to the good people, and they, on
their part, could not have done without their Clovy.

Such was, if it may be put thus, the human element in
this itinerant troupe.

As to the animal element, it was represented by two fine
dogs, a spaniel—a first-rate hunter and a reliable watch-dog
for the house on wheels—and a clever, intelligent poodle,
sure to become a member of the ‘‘Institute,’’ whenever the
intellectual powers of the canine race are rewarded in
France on a par with those of men.

Next to the two dogs, it is right we should introduce to
the public a little ape that proved a worthy rival of Clovy
himself when they vied with one another in distorting their
faces, and puzzled the spectators as to who should carry off

the palm. Then, there was a parrot, Jako, a native of Java, ©

who talked and prattled and sang and jabbered ten hours
out of twelve, thanks to the teaching of his friend Sander.
Lastly two horses, two good old horses, drew the wagon,
and God knows if their legs, somewhat stiffened with years,
had been stretched out over the miles and miles they had
measured across country.

And, should you care to know the names of these two
good steeds? One was called Vermont like Mr. Delamarre’s
winning horse, the other Gladiator like Count de Lagrange’s.

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THE ‘‘ ANIMAL ELEMENT.’ —Page 20.

THE SIERRA NEVADA. 2r

Yes, they bore those names so famous on the French turf;
yet they never had a thought of getting themselves entered
for the Paris Grand Prix.

As to the dogs, they were called: the spaniel, Wagram,
the poodle, Marengo; and, no need to tell who the god-
father was to whom they were indebted for those renowned
historical names.

The ape—why, he had been christened John Bull, for
the simple reason that he was ugly.

What can be done? We must overlook this mania of Mr.
Cascabel’s, proceeding as it did, after all, from a patriotic
sentiment which is very pardonable—even though at an
epoch when such strong feelings are but little justified.

‘Were it possible,’’ he would say sometimes, ‘‘not to
worship the man who exclaimed under a shower of bullets:
‘Follow the white feather on my hat; you will ever find it,
ete?” ”’

And, when he would be reminded that it was Henry IV.
who had uttered those beautiful words:

“That may be,’’ he would reply; ‘‘but Napoleon could
have said as much!”’

CHAPTER III.
THE SIERRA NEVADA.

OW many people have had dreams, at one time or

other, of a journey performed in a movable house,
after gypsy fashion! of a journey exempt of all worry con-
cerning hotels, and inns, and unreliable beds, and still more
unreliable cooks, when the country to be traversed is no
more than besprinkled with hamlets or villages! That
which wealthy amateurs do daily on board their pleasure
yachts, surrounded by all the comfort of their transplanted
home, few are the people who have done it by means of a
vehicle ad hoc, And still, is not a carriage a movable

22 CAESAR CASCABEL.

house? Why do gypsies enjoy a monopoly of the pleasures
of ‘‘yachting on terra firma?”’

In reality, the showman'’s wagon constitutes a complete —

flat, with its various rooms and furniture; it is “‘home’’ on
wheels; and Cesar Cascabel’s was beautifully adapted to
the requirements of his gypsy life.

The Fair Rambler was the name they had given it, as
though it were a Norman schooner; and that name was jus-
tified after so many peregrinations through the length and
breadth of the United States. They had bought it three
years ago, with the first money they had saved, as a substi-
tute for the old primitive van, just covered over with an
awning and unsupported by a single spring, that had
nestled them so long. Now, as it was over twenty years
since Mr. Cascabel had begun visiting the fairs and markets
of the United States, it is needless to say his wagon was of
American manufacture.

The Fair Rambler rested on four wheels. Supplied with
good steel springs, it combined lightness with strength.
Well looked after, scrubbed and washed with soap, it shone
in all the glow of its brightly-painted panels on which gold
yellow blended harmoniously with cochineal red, and dis-
played to the public gaze the already famous trade name
and mark:

THE CASSAR CASCABEL FAMILY.

As to length, it would have been a match for those wag-
ons that still ply the prairies of the Far West, in parts
where the Great Trunk Railroad has not hitherto pushed its
way. It is evident that two horses could only walk with so

heavy a vehicle. In truth the load was no light one. Not

to speak of its inhabitants, did not the Har Rambler con-

vey, on its roof, the canvas for the tent, and the poles, and-

the ropes, and, underneath between the fore and the hind
wheels, a swinging board laden with various articles, a large

THE SIERRA NEVADA. 23

drum and a smaller one, a horn, a trombone and other uten-
sils and accessories, the real tools of the showman? Let us
put on record likewise the costumes of a noted pantomine,
“The Brigands of the Black Forest,’’ on the repertory of
the Cascabel family.

The internal arrangements were well devised, and we
need not add that scrupulous cleanliness, Flemish cleanli-
ness, reigned supreme, thanks to Cornelia, who could stand
no trifling in this respect.

In the fore part, closing by means of a sliding glass-door,
was the first compartment heated by the cooking-stove.
Next came a drawing or dining-room, where the fortune-
teller gave her consultations; then a bed-room with bunks,
superposed on each other as on board ship, which, with a cur-
tain for a division, afforded sleeping accommodation, on
the right to the two brothers, and on the left to their little
sister;.lastly at the further end, Mr. and Mrs. Cascabel’s
room. Here, a bed with thick mattresses and a patchwork
quilt, near which the famous safe had been deposited. All
the recesses were taken up with little boards on hinges,
which might be used as tables or toilet-stands, or with nar-
row cupboards where the costumes, the wigs and the false
beards for the pantomine, were put by. The whole was
lighted by two paraffine lamps, veritable ship lamps that
swung to and fro with the motion of the vehicle when the
roads were unlevel; moreover, so as to allow the light of
day to penetrate the various compartments, half a dozen
little windows, with lead-cased panes, light muslin curtains
and colored bands, gave to the /azr Rambler the appear-
ance of the saloon on a Dutch galliot.

Clovy, naturally easy to please, slept in the first compart-
ment, on a hammock that he hung up at night and took
down at day-break next morning.

We have yet to mention that the two dogs, Wagram and
Marengo, in consequence of their being on night-duty, slept

24 C4ESAR CASCABEL.

among the baggage under the wagon, where they tolerated
the company of John Bull, the ape, in spite of his restless-
ness and his propensity for playing tricks, and that Jako,
the parrot, was housed in a cage hooked on to the ceiling in
the second compartment.

As to the horses, Gladiator and Vermont, they were quite
free to graze round about the Hair Rambler, nor was there
any necessity to fetter them. And when they had done
cropping the grass of those vast prairies where their table
was ever laid, and their bed, or rather their litter ever
ready, they had only to pick out a spot whereon to lay
themselves to sleep, on the very ground that had supplied
them with food.

One thing certain is, that, when night had closed around,
what with the guns and the revolvers of its occupants, what
with the two dogs that kept watch over it, the Hair Rambler
was in perfect safety.

Such was this family coach. How many a mile it had
rambled along for the past three years through the States,
from New York to Albany, from Niagara to Buffalo, to St.
Louis, to Philadelphia, to Boston, to Washington, down the
Mississippi to New Orleans, all along the Great Trunk, up to
the Rocky Mountains, to the Mormon district, to the furth-
ermost ends of California! A healthy mode of traveling, if
ever there was one, seeing that not one member of the little
troupe had ever been ill, save and except John Bull, whose
fits of indigestion were anything but few, his instinctive
knavery making it easy for him to satisfy his inconceivable
gluttony.

And how glad tlrey would be to bring back the Far Ram-
bler to Europe, to drive it along on the highways of the old
continent! What sympathetic curiosity it would awaken as
it went through France, through the village homesteads of
Normandy! Ah! seeing France again, ‘‘seeing his Nor-
mandie once more’ as in Berat’s well-known song, such

THE SIERRA NEVADA. 25

was the aim of all Caesar Cascabel’s thoughts, the goal of all
his aspirations.

Once in New York, the wagon was to be taken to pieces,
packed up and put on board ship for Havre, where it would
only need to be set up on its wheels again, to ramble away
toward the French capital.

How Mr. Cascabel, his wife and children, longed to be
off! and so, doubtless, did their companions, their four-
footed friends we might say. That is why, at day-break,
on the r5th of February, they left Circus Place in Sacra-
mento, some on foot, others riding, each one to his fancy.

The temperature was very cool still, but it was fine
weather. It may be surmised the anchor was not weighed
without a due supply of biscuits on board, or if you like,
without various preserves of meat and vegetables. As to
that, it was an easy matter to renew the stocks in the towns
and villages. And then, was not the country swarming with
game, buffaloes, deer, hares and partridges? And would
John be sparing of his gun or his shot when shooting was
subject to no restriction, when no European gun license was
demanded in those boundless wilds of the Far West? And
a dead shot was John, I tell you; and Wagram, the spaniel,
showed hunting qualities of no mean standard, if Marengo
the poodle was deficient in that respect.

On leaving Sacramento, the Fair Rambler took a north-
east course. The object was to reach the frontier by the
shortest road, and to cross the Sierra Nevada, say, to
travel a distance of about six hundred miles to the Sonora
Pass, which opens on to the endless plains of the East.

This was not the Far West, properly so-€alled, yet, where
villages are only to be found at long intervals; it was not
the prairie with its far-distant horizon, its immense waste,
its wandering Indians gradually driven back toward the less
frequented parts of North America. Almost as soon as you
were out of Sacramento, the land already began to rise.

26 CAESAR CASCABEL.

You already perceived the ramifications of the Sierra which
so nobly enclasps old California within the dark frame of its

pine-covered mountains, overtopped here and there with

peaks 15,000 feet high. It is a barrier of verdure thrown
up by nature around that country on which she had lavished
such wealth of gold, now carried away by the rapacity of
man.

Along the road followed by the air Rambler there was
no lack of important towns: Jackson, Mokelumne, Placer-
ville, the world-known outposts of the Eldorado, and the
Calaveras. But Mr. Cascabel halted in these places barely
long enough to make a few purchases, or to have a specially
good night’s rest, when needed. He longed to get to the
other side of the Nevada, the Great Salt Lake district, and
the huge rampart of the Rocky Mountains, where his horses
would have many a hard tug to give. Then as far as the
Erie or Ontario region, all they need do would be to follow,
through the prairies, the trails already beaten by the feet of
the horses and furrowed by the wagons of preceding cara-
vans.

Still, progress was slow through these hilly districts. Un-
avoidable detours increased the length of the journey. And
again, although the country lay in the thirty-eighth parallel,
which, in Europe, is the latitude of Sicily and Spain, the
last lingering chill of winter had lost none of its sting. In
consequence, as the reader knows, of the deviation of the Gulf
Stream—that warm current which, when leaving the Gulf
of Mexico, winds obliquely toward Europe,—the climate of
North America is much colder, on the same latitudes, than
that of the old fontinent. But, a few weeks more, and
once again California would be the land exuberant among
all others, that fruitful land, where cereals multiply a hun-
dredfold, where the most varied productions, both of the
tropics and of the temperate zone, luxuriate side by side,
sugar cane, rice, tobacco, oranges, lemons, olives, pineapples,

an

THE SIERRA NEVADA. 27

bananas. ‘The wealth of the Californian soil is not the gold
it contains, it is the marvelous vegetation it brings forth.

‘‘We shall be sorry to leave this country,’’ said Cornelia,
who did not look with an indifferent eye on the good things
of the table.

“You glutton!’’ her husband would answer.

*‘Oh, it is not for myself I speak, it is for the children!”’

Several days were spent journeying along the edge of the
forests, through prairies gradually resuming their fresh tint
of green. Despite their numbers, the ruminants fed by
these prairies are unable to wear out the carpet of grass that
nature keeps on renewing for ever under their feet. Too
great emphasis could not be laid on the vegetative power of
that Californian soil, to which no other can be compared.
It is the granary of the Pacific, and the merchant navy, that
takes its produce away, cannot exhaust it. The air Ram-
dler went on its way, at its usual speed, a daily average of
eighteen or twenty miles—not more. It is at this rate it had
already conveyed its freight throughout all the States, where
the name of the Cascabels was so favorably known, from the
mouth of the Mississippi to New England. True, they then
stopped in every town of the Confederacy to increase the
amount of their takings; while in this journey, from west
to east, there was no thought of dazzling the populations.
No artistic tour was this; this time, it was the journey home
toward old Europe, with the Norman farms away in per-
spective.

A merry journey it was, too! How many sedentary
dwellings would have envied the happiness of this house on
wheels! There was laughing, and singing, and joking; and
at times the horn, on which young Sander exhibited all his
skill, would set the birds to flight, just as noisy a tribe as
our frolicsome troupe.

All this was very fine, but days spent traveling need not,
of necessity, be schoolboys’ holidays.

28 CESAR CASCABEL.

‘*My children,’’ Mr. Cascabel would often say, ‘‘we must
not get rusty for all this!’’

And so, during the halts, if the horses took a rest, the
family did not do so. More than once did the Indians
eagerly watch John going over his juggling, Napoleona
rehearsing a few graceful steps, Sander dislocating himself
as though his limbs were India-rubber, Mrs. Cascabel indulg-
ing in muscular exercises, and Mr. Cascabel in ventriloquial
effects, not to forget Jako prattling in its cage, the two dogs
performing together, and John Bull exhausting himself in
contortions.

Let it be noticed, however, that John did not neglect his
studying by the roadside. Over and over again did he read
the few books that made up the little library of the Fazr
Rambler, a small geography, a small arithmetic, and various
volumes of travels; he it was, moreover, who wrote up the
log-book, in which were pleasantly recorded the incidents
of the cruise.

“You will know too much!”’ his father sometimes said to
him. ‘‘Still, if your taste runs that way,—’’

And far was it from Mr. Cascabel to thwart the literary
instincts of his first-born. Asa fact, his wife and himself
were very proud to have a “‘scholar’’ in the family.

One afternoon, about the 27th of February, the Fair
Rambler reached the foot of the Sierra Nevada gorges. For
four or five days to come, this rugged pass through the chain
would cause them much toil and labor. It would be no
light task, for man or beast, to climb half-way up the moun-
tain. The men would have to put their shoulders to the
wheels along the narrow paths which skirt the giant’s sides.
Although the weather continued to. grow milder, thanks to
the early influence of Californian spring, the climate would
still be inclement at certain latitudes. © Nothing is to be
dreaded more than the floods of rain, the fearful snowdrifts,
the bewildering squalls you encounter at the turns of those

AT THE FOOT OF THE S!ERRA.—/age 29.

_ = Caile

THE SIERRA NEVADA. 29

gorges in which the wind gets imprisoned as in a gulf.
Besides, the upper portion of the passes rises above the
zone of the permanent snow, and you must ascend toa
height of at least six thousand feet before reaching the
downward slope toward the Mormon district.

Mr. Cascabel proposed to do as he had already done on
similar occasions: he would hire extra horses in the villages
or the farms on the mountain, as well as men, Indians or
Americans, to drive them. It would be an additional
expense, of course, but a necessary one, if they cared not to
break down their own horses.

On the evening of the 27th, the entrance into the Sonora
Pass was reached. ‘The valleys they had hitherto followed
presented but a slight gradient; Vermont and Gladiator
had walked them up with comparative ease. But farther
up they could not have gone, even with the help of every
member of the troupe.

A halt was made within a short distance of a hamlet that
lay in a gorge of the Sierra. Just a few houses, and, at a
couple of gunshots’ distance, a farm to which Mr. Cascabel
determined to repair that very evening. There he would
engage, for the following morning, some extra horses that
Vermont and Gladiator would gladly welcome.

First, the necessary measures had to be taken for spend-
ing the night in this spot.

As soon as the camp was organized in the usual manner,
the inhabitants of the hamlet were communicated with and
readily consented to supply fresh food for the masters, and
forage for the horses.

On this evening, the rehearsing of exercises was out of
the question. All were worn out with fatigue. It had been
a heavy day: for, in order to lighten the load, they had had
to go on foot a great part of the journey. Manager Casca-
bel therefore granted absolute rest on this and every other
night while they crossed the Sierra.

i 7

3° CAESAR CASCABEL.

After the ‘‘master’s searching eye’’ had been cast over
the encampment, Cascabel took Clovy, and, leaving the fair
Rambler to the charge of his wife and children, made his
way toward the farm over which ringlets of smoke were
seen curling up through the trees.

This farm was kept by a Californian and his family by
whom the showman was well received. The farmer under-
took to supply him with three horses and two drivers. The
latter were to pilot the Hair Rambler as far as where the
eastward declivity begins, and then return with the extra
horses. But, that would cost a deal of money.

Mr. Cascabel bargained like a man who is anxious not to
throw his money away, and, eventually, a sum was agreed
on, which did not exceed the subsidy allowed on the budget
for this portion of the trip.

The next morning, at six o’clock, the two men arrived;
their three horses were put to, in front of Vermont and
Gladiator, and the Fair Rambler began climbing up a nar-
row gorge thickly wooded on each side. About eight
o'clock, at one of the turnings of the pass, that marvelous
land of California, which our travelers were not leaving
without a pang, had entirely disappeared behind the Sierra.

The farmer’s three steeds were fine animals, which could
be relied upon in every way. Could the same be said of
the drivers? The thing seemed, to say the least, doubtful.

Both were strong fellows, half-breeds, half Indian, half
English. Ah! had Mr. Cascabel known it, how soon he
had parted company with them!

Cornelia was anything but prepossessed by their looks on
the whole. John held the same views as his mother, and
these views were shared by Clovy. It did not seem as
though Mr. Cascabel had made a good hit. After all, these
men were but two, and they would find their match, should
they harbor any evil design.

As to dangerous encounters in the Sierra, they were not

Wa THE SIERRA NEVADA. 31

to be dreaded. The roads should be safe by this time.

The days were gone when Californian miners, the “‘loafers’’

and the ‘‘rowdies’’ as they were styled, joined the ranks of

the criminals who had thronged here from every quarter of
the globe, to become the plague of respectable people.
' *Lynch law had succeeded in bringing them to reason.

However, as a prudent man, Mr. Cascabel determined to
‘keep on the alert.

The men hired at the farm were skillful drivers; that
could not be denied. ‘The first day passed by without any
accident: that was something to be thankful for, first of all.
A wheel giving way, an axle tree in halves, and the occu-
pants of the Hair Rambler, away from all human dwellings,
without any means of repairing the damage, would have
been in a sorry plight.

The pass now wore the wildest aspect. Nothing but
black-looking pine trees, no vegetation but the moss hugging
the soil. Here and there, enormous heaps of piled-up rocks
necessitated many a detour, especially along one of the
affluents of the Walkner, which came out of the lake of that
name and bellowed its mad career into the precipices below.
Far away, lost in the cloudsy Castle Peak pointed to the
skies, and looked down on the other spurs picturesquely shot
upwards by the Sierra.

About five o’clock, when the shades of evening were
already creeping up from the depths of the narrow gorges,
they came to a sudden turn of the road. The gradient in
this spot was so steep that it was found necessary to unload
a portion of the freight and leave behind, for a time, most
of the articles laid on the top of the wagon, as well as those
underneath it. ‘

Every one worked with a will, and, it must be confessed,
the two drivers gave proofs of zeal in this circumstance.

Mr. Cascabel and his people had their first impression of
_ those men slightly modified. Besides. in another couple of

—— ee

a

%,

32 CAESAR CASCABEL,

days, the highest point of the pass would be attained; their
downhill journey would commence; and all that belonged
to the farm would return thereto.

When the halting station had been agreed upon, whilst
the drivers looked after the horses, Mr. Cascabel, his two
sons and Clovy, walked back a few hundred paces for the
things that had been left behind.

A good supper terminated the day, and nobody thought

of aught else but a sound rest.
_ The “‘boss’’ offered to the drivers to make room for them
in one of the compartments of the Hazr Rambler ; but they
declined, assuring him that the shelter of the trees was all
that they needed. There, well wrapped in thick rugs, they
could watch all the better after their master’s horses.

A few moments more, and the encampment was buried
in sleep.

The following morning, all were on foot at the first dawn
of day.

Mr. Cascabel, John and Clovy, the earliest risers in the
fair Rambler, went to the spot where Vermont and Gladia-
tor had been penned up, the night before.

Both were there, but the three horses of the farmer had
disappeared.

As they could not be very far off, John was about telling
the drivers to go look for them; neither was to be seen
about the camping-ground.

‘‘Where are they?’’ said he.

“Very likely,’’ answered his father, ‘‘they are running
after the horses.

“Hallo! Hallo!’’ shouted Clovy in a tone of voice that
should be heard a considerable distance away.

No answer came.

New cries were uttered, as loud as the force of human
lungs would permit, by Mr. Cascabel and by John, who
went a little way down the track.

’”

33.

o

STOLEN !—Pagve

A GREAT RESOLUTION. 33

No sign of the missing drivers.

“Could it be that their appearance only told too plainly
what they were?”’ :

““Why would they have run away?’’ asked John.

“Because they'll have done something wrong.”’

““What?”’

“What? Wait a bit!—We shall soon know!”’

And, with John and Clovy on his heels, he ran toward
the Lair Rambler.

Jumping up the wagon step, opening the door, two strides
through the compartments and on to the end room where
the precious safe had been laid, all that was the work of an

instant, and Mr. Cascabel reappeared, shouting:

y
’
Pe.

)
ose
ps

~

stolen !/’
“‘What, the safe?’’ said Cornelia.

m9?

“Yes, stolen by those ruffians!

CHAPTER DY.

A GREAT RESOLUTION.

UFFIANS!

This was indeed the only name suitable to such
wretches. The robbery, however, was none the less an
accomplished fact.

Each evening Mr. Cascabel had been in the habit of see-
ing whether the safe lay still in its nook. Now, the day
before, well he remembered it, worn out with the hardships

of the day and overpowered with sleep, he had omitted his

habitual inspection. No doubt, while John, Sander and
Clovy had gone down with him for the articles that had
been left at the turning of the pass, the two drivers had
made their way unnoticed into the inner compartment,
removed the safe, and hidden it among the brushwood
around the camping-ground. ‘That was the reason why they
had declined to sleep inside the Hazr Rambler, They had

34 CESAR CASCABEL.

afterward waited until everybody was asleep, and had then
run away with the farmer’s horses.

Out of all the savings of the little troupe, there was nothing
left now but afew dollars that Mr. Cascabel had in his
pocket. And was it not lucky that the rascals had not
taken Vermont and Gladiator away as well!

The dogs, already grown accustomed to the presence of
the two men for the past twenty-four hours, had not even
given the alarm, and the evil deed had been done without
any difficulty.

Where were the thieves to be caught, now that they had
made for the Sierra? Where was the money to be recov-
ered? And without the money, how was the Atlantic to
be crossed?

The poor people gave vent to their grief, some with tears,
others with outbursts of indignation. At the very first, Mr.
Cascabel was a prey toa real fit of rage, and his wife and
children found it very difficult to calm him down. But,
after having thus given way to his passion, he recovered
possession of himself, as a man who has no time to waste in
vain recriminations.

“‘Accursed safe!’’ burst from Cornelia’s lips in the midst
of her tears.

‘Sure BoouEE
money—”’

‘‘Yes!—A brilliant idea I hatched that day, to go buy
that devil of a chest!'’ exclaimed Mr. Cascabel. ‘‘I guess
the best thing to do when you have a safe is to put nothing
in it! A great boon, to be sure, that it was proof against
fire, as the shopman told me, when it was not proof against
thieves!”’

It must be admitted, the blow was a hard one for the
poor people, and it is no wonder they felt utterly crushed
by it. Robbed of two thousand dollars that had been
earned at the cost of so much toil!

'??

said John, ‘‘if we had had no safe, our

BACK AGAIN DOWN THE Pass,—Page

A GREAT RESOLUTION. 35

“What shall we do now?”’ inquired John.

“To?’’ replied Mr. Cascabel, whose gnashing teeth
seemed to grind his words as he spoke. ‘‘It is very sim-
ple!—Nay, it is most uncommonly simple! Without extra
horses we can’t possibly go on climbing up the pass. Well,
I vote we go back to the farm! It may be, those ruffians
are there!’’

‘Unless they did not go back!’’ suggested Clovy.

And, truly, this was more than likely. However, as Mr.
Cascabel said once more, the only course open to them was
returning on their steps, since going ahead was out of the
question. :

Thereupon Vermont and Gladiator were put to, and the
wagon began its journey down through the pass of the
Sierra.

This was but too easy a task alas! You can put on speed
when you go downhill; but it was with heads hanging down
and without a word our folks jogged down, save and except
when a volley of curses broke forth from Cascabel.

At twelve o’clock in the day the “air Rambler stopped in
front of the farm. ‘The two thieves had not returned. On
hearing what had taken place the farmer flew into a passion
in which sympathy for the show-people played not the
slightest part. If they had lost their money, he had’ been
robbed of his three horses, he had! Once away in the
mountain, the thieves must have cut across to the other side
of the pass. A nice race he might have after them now!
And the farmer, beside himself with excitement, had well-
nigh held Mr. Cascabel responsible for the loss of his
horses!

“‘That’s a rich idea!’’ said the latter. —‘‘Why do you
keep such scoundrels in your service, and why do you hire
them to respectable people?’”’

‘‘How did I know?”’ the farmer replied. ‘‘Not a word
of complaint had I ever against them!”’

36 CESAR CASCABEL.

In any case the robbery had been perpetrated, and the
situation was heart-breaking.

But, if Mrs. Cascabel found it hard to master her own
feelings, her husband with that solid foundation of gypsy
philosophy so peculiarly his own, succeeded in recovering
his coolness. :

And when they were assembled together in the Faz
Rambler, a conversation was engaged among all the mem-
bers of the family,—a most important conversation, ‘‘out of
which was to come forth a great resolution,’’ so said Mr.
Cascabel, strongly rolling his 7’s as he spoke:

‘‘Children, there are circumstances in life, when a strong-
willed man must be able to make up his mind on the spur
of the moment. Indeed I have observed that those circum-
stances are generally unpleasant ones. Witness those in
which we now are, thanks to those rascals. Well, this is no
time to hesitate to the right or to the left, the more so as we
have not half a dozen roads before us. We have but one,
and that’s the road we shall take immediately.

““Which?’’ asked Sander.

“Iam going to tell you what I have in my head,” an-
swered Mr. Cascabel. ‘‘But, to know if my idea is practi-
cable, John must fetch his book with the maps in it.”’

“My atlas?’’ said John.

“Yes, your atlas. You must be a good fellow at geogra-
phy! Run for your atlas.’’

“Straight off, father.’’

And when the atlas had been laid on the table, the father
continued as follows:

“It is an understood thing, my children, that, although
those ruffians have stolen our safe—why did I ever think of
buying a safe!—it is an understood thing, I say, that we
don’t give up our idea of going back to Europe.”’

‘‘Give it up?—never!’’ exclaimed Mrs. Cascabel.

‘A good answer, Cornelia! We want to go: back to

: im i
Wiig a = ‘

it
Tat")
jE NSN

Sy ii} }

** JOHN FOUND OUT THE MAP OF NORTH AMERICA,” —/fage 37.

A GREAT RESOLUTION. S1

Europe, and go back we shall! We want to see France
again, and see her again we shall! It is not because we
have been robbed by scoundrels that—I, for one, must
breathe my native air once more, or I am a dead man.”’

‘‘And you shan't die, Cesar!’ We have made our start
for Europe, we shall get there, no matter what—’’

“*And how shall we?’’ reiterated John. ‘‘How? I should
like to know.”’

‘“‘How, that’s the question,’’ answered Mr. Cascabel,
scratching his forehead. ‘‘Of course, by giving perform-
ances along the road, we shall be able to get day by day
what will land the “azr Rambler in New York. But, when
there, no money left to pay for our passage, no boat to take
us across! And without a boat, no possibility of crossing
the sea except we swim! Now, I fancy that will be rather
Bard.’

“Very hard, boss,’’ replied Clovy,—‘‘unless we had
finis:”?

““Have you any?”

“Not that I know of.’’

‘If so, hold your peace, and listen.’
his eldest son:

‘John, open your atlas, and show us the exact spot
where we are!”’ ‘

John found out the map of North America, and laid it
under his father’s eyes. All eagerly looked whilst he
pointed with his finger to a spot in the Sierra Nevada a
little to the east of Sacramento.

Sebimeaisit!** he said.

“Very well,’’ answered Mr. Cascabel. ‘‘And so, if we
were on the other side of the range, we should have the
whole territory of the United States to cross, right through
to New York?’’

‘‘We should, father.”’

‘And how many miles might that be?’’

,

,

Then addressing

38 CESAR CASCABEL.

‘Somewhere about four thousand miles.
‘Very good; then we should have the ocean to cross?”’
*“Of course.’’

‘‘And how many miles to the other side of that ocean?”’

‘Three thousand or thereabouts.’’

‘‘And once on French soil, we may say we are in Nor-
mandy?’’

““‘We may.”’

‘‘And all that, put together, gives a total of—’’

‘Seven thousand miles! cried out little Napoleona, who
had been reckoning it to herself.

‘“‘See, the little one!’’ said Mr. Cascabel. ‘‘Isn’t she
quick at figures! So, we say seven thousand miles?”’

‘*About that, father,’ answered John, ‘‘and I think I’m
allowing good measure.”’

“Well, children, that little strip of ribbon would be noth-
ing for the Fair Rambler, if there was not a sea between
America and Europe, an unfortunate sea blocking up the
road for the wagon! And that sea can’t be got over with-
out money, that is, without a boat—’’

“Or without fins!’’ repeated Clovy.

‘“Clovy has got fins on the brain!’’ said Mr. Cascabel
with a shrug of his shoulders.

‘*Well then, it is beyond all evidence,’
“‘that we can’t go home by the east!’’

“‘Can’t is the word, my son, as you say; the thing can’t
possibly be done. But, who knows if by the west?’’—

““By the west?’’—exclaimed John, looking up at his
father.

“Yes! Look it up, will you?) And show me what track
we should follow by the west?”’

“First, we should go up through California, Oregon and
Washington Territory up to the Northern frontier of the
United States.’’

‘“‘And from there?”’

’

remarked John,

F
. . = Aa
a ne el

Ms
A GREAT RESOLUTION. 39
‘From that time, we should be in British Columbia.”
**Pugh!’’ said Mr. Cascabel. ‘*‘And could we not avoid
that Columbia by any means?’’
- Wop tather.”’
*‘Well, goon! And after that?”’
‘*After we had reached the frontier to the north of Colum-
bia, we should find the province of Alaska.”’
“Which is English?’
‘‘No, Russian—at least up to the present, for there is
talk of its being annexed—’”’
“To England?”’
final -Vo the United States.’
“That’s right! And after Alaska, where are we?’’
‘In the Behring Strait, which separates the two conti-
nents, America and Asia.’’
‘‘And how many miles to this strait?’’
‘*Three thousand three hundred, father.’’
‘‘Keep that in your head, Napoleona; you’il add it all
up by and by.’’
‘‘And so shall I?’’ asked Sander.
‘“And you too.”’
‘‘Now, your strait, John, how wide might it be?’’
‘“Maybe sixty miles, father.’’
‘‘What! sixty miles!’’ remarked Mrs. Cascabel.
‘‘A mere stream, Cornelia; we may as well call it a
stream.’’
““How’s that?—A stream?”’
‘““Of course! Is not your Behring Strait frozen over in
winter, John?”’
“Tt is, father! For four or five months, it is one solid
mass.’”’ .
‘‘Bravo! and at that time people might walk across it on
the ice?’
‘People can and do so.”’
i ‘“‘That’s what I call an excellent strait!’’
iy
?

40 CAESAR) CASCABEL.

‘‘But, after that,’’ inquired Cornelia, ‘’will there be no
more seas to cross?”’

‘‘No! After that, we have the continent of Asia, which
stretches along as far as Russia in Europe.”’

‘Show us that, John.’’

And John took, in the atlas, the general map of Asia,
which Mr. Cascabel examined attentively.

‘Well! There is everything shaping itself as if to order,’
said he; ‘‘so long as there are not too many wild countries
in your Asia?’’

‘*Not too many, father.’’

**And Europe, where is it?’’

‘‘There,’’ replied John, laying the tip of his finger on
the Oural.

‘‘And what is the distance from this strait—this little
stream called Behring—to Russia in Europe?’’

‘*They reckon nearly five thousand miles.’’

*‘And from that to France?’’

**About eighteen hundred.’’

**And all that makes up, from Sacramento?’’

‘*Ten thousand one hundred and sixty,’’ cried at the
same time Sander and Napoleona.

“You'll both get the prize!’’ said Mr. Cascabel. “So
then, by the east we have about seven thousand miles?”

“?Y es; father.”’

“And by the west, roughly speaking, ten thousand?”’

“Yes, say a difference of three thousand miles.”’

““Three thousand miles more on the western route, but
no sca on the road! Well, then, children, since we can’t
go one way, we must needs go the other, and that’s what I
vote we do, as any donkey would.”’

“A funny thing! Walking home backwards!’’ cried
Sander.

“No, not backwards! It is going home by an opposite
direction !”’

A GREAT RESOLUTION. 41

‘Quite so, father,’’ replied John. ‘‘Still, I would have
you bear in mind that, seeing the enormous distance, we
shall never reach France this year, if we go by the west!”’

‘*Why so?”’

‘‘Because, three thousand miles in the difference is some-
thing for the “aér Rambler,—and for its team!”’

‘Well, children, if we are not in Europe this year, we
shall be next year! And, now I think of it, as we shall have
to go through Russia, where are held the fairs of Perm,
Kazan and Nijni, that I so often hear of, we shall stop in
those places, and I promise you the famous Cascabel family
will gather fresh laurels there, and a fresh supply of cash,
top! ’*

What objections can you make to a man when he has his
answer for everything?

In truth, it is with the human soul as with iron. Under
repeated blows, its molecules get more firmly kneaded
together, it becomes thoroughly wrought, it acquires a
greater power of resistance. And that was exactly the effect
now being produced on these honest show-people. In the
course of their laborious, adventurous, nomadic life in
which they had had so many trials to bear, they surely
never had been in such a sorry plight, with all their savings
lost, and their return home by the usual means a matter of
impossibility. Yet this last blow of the sledge hammer of
ill-luck had so mercilessly battered them that they now felt a
match for anything the future might have in store for them.

Mrs.Cascabel, her two sons and her daughter all joined
in unanimous applause of the father’s proposal. And still,
could anything seem more unreasonable? Mr. Cascabel
must indeed have ‘‘lost his head’’ in his desire to return to
Europe, to think of carrying such a plan into execution.
Pshaw! What was it, to have to rough it across the West
of America and the whole of Siberia, so long as it was in
the direction of France!

4%

42 CAESAR CASCABEL.

‘*Bravo! Bravo!’’ exclaimed Napoleona.

‘‘Encore! Encore!’’ added Sander, who could find no
more suitable words to express his enthusiasm.

‘Say, father,” asked Napoleona, ‘‘shall we see the
Emperor of Russia?”

“Of course we shall, if his Majesty the Czar is in the
habit of coming to the Nijni fair to enjoy himself.”

‘And we shall perform before him?”’

“No doubt!—if he will express the least desire to see
gi’

‘Oh, how I should love to kiss him on both cheeks!”

‘You may have to be satisfied with one cheek, my little
girlie!’’ answered Mr. Cascabel. ‘‘But, if you do kiss
him, take good care you don’t spoil his crown!”’

As to Clovy, the feeling he experienced toward his master
was nothing short of admiration.

And so, the itinerary being now regularly planned out,
the Hair Rambler was to trail it up through California, Ore-
gon and Washington Territory to the Anglo-American fron-
tier. They had some fifty dollars left,—the pocket-money
which, luckily, had not been put up in the safe.—However,
as so trifling a sum could not suffice to the daily wants of
such a journey, it was agreed that the little troupe would
give performances in the towns and villages. Thee was
no regret to be felt, either, at the delay occasioned by these
halts. Had they not to wait until the strait should be
entirely frozen over and afford safe passage to the wagon?
Now, this could not come to pass before seven or eight
months.

“And, to wind up, it will be ill-luck with a vengeance,”’
said Mr. Cascabel, ‘if we don’t get a few good takings
before we reach the end of America!”’

In truth, throughout the whole of Alaska, ‘‘making
money’’ among wandering tribes of Indians, was very
problematical, But, as far as the western frontier of the

tai tien

- A GREAT RESOLUTION. 43

United States, in that portion of the new continent hith-
erto unvisited by the Cascabel family, there was no doubt
but the public, on the mere faith of its reputation, should
gladly give its members the welcome they deserved.

Beyond that point, our travelers would be in British
Columbia, and although, there, the towns were numerous,
never, no, never would Mr, Cascabel stoop so low as to
open his hands for English shillings or pence. It was bad
enough already, it was too bad, that the /azr Rambler and
its occupants should be compelled to journey a distance of
over six hundred miles on the soil of a British colony!

As to Siberia, with its long desert steppes, all they would
meet there would be perhaps some of those Samoyedes or
Tchuktchis who seldom leave the coast. There, no tak-
ings in perspective; that was a foregone conclusion; proof
evident thereof would be forthcoming in due time.

All being agreed upon, Mr. Cascabel decided that the
Fair Rambler’ would start off next morning at daybreak.
Meanwhile, there was supper wanted. Away Cornelia set
to work with her usual heartiness, and while she was at her
cooking-stove, with her kitchen-help Clovy:

““All the same,’’ said she, ‘‘that’s a grand idea of Mr.
Cascabel’s.’”’

“‘T believe you, mistress, a grand idea like all those that
simmer in his pot,—I mean, that gallop through his brain.”

‘And then, Clovy, no sea to cross on this road, and no
sea-sickness.”’

“‘Unless—the ice should heave up and down in the
strait!’’

“That’s enough, Clovy, and no ill omens

Meanwhile, Sander was doing a few somersaults, with

1??

which his father was delighted. Napoleona, on her side,

was executing some graceful steps, while the dogs frisked
about her. Nor was it needless now to keep in good form,
since the performances were going to be resumed,

44 CAESAR CASCABEL.

Suddenly, Sander called out:

‘Why, the animals of the troupe! Nobody thought of
asking ¢heir opinion about our great journey!”’

And running to Vermont:

“Well, my old fellow, what do you think of it, eh? A
little nine thousand miles of a jog?”’

Then, turning toward Gladiator:

“What will your old legs say about it?”’

Both horses neighed at the same time as if in token of
cheerful assent.

It was now the turn of the dogs.

“Here, Wagram! here, Marengo, what jolly old capers
you are going to cut, eh?”’

A merry bark and a gambol seemed to supply the de-
sired reply. It was plain that Wagram and Marengo were
ready to go the wide world over at the beck of their

* master.

The ape was next called upon to speak his mind.

‘Come, John Bull!” exclaimed Sander, ‘‘don’t put on
such a long face! You'll see lots of countries, my old boy!
And, if you are cold, we’ll put your warm jacket on you!
And those funny faces of yours? I do hope you have not
forgotten how to make them, have you?”’

No! John Bull had not forgotten any such thing, and
the antics he made there and then excited the laughter of
all around him.

Remained the parrot.

Sander took it out of its cage. The bird strutted about,
nodding its head and ‘‘squaring itself’’ on its legs.

“Well, Jako,” asked Sander, ‘‘you say nothing? Have
you lost your tongue?—We are going on such a glorious
journey! Are you pleased, Jako?”’

Jako drew from the depths of its throat a series of articu-
late sounds in which the 7’s rolled as if they had come out
of Mr, Cascabel’s powerful larynx, ‘‘Bravo!’’ cried San-

‘©LIKE ALL THOSE THAT SIMMER IN HIS Por.”—/age 43.

ON THE ROAD. 45

der. ‘‘He is quite satisfied—Jako approves the motion!
Jako votes with the ayes!"’

And the young lad, his hands on the ground, and his feet
up in the air, began a series of somersaults and contortions
which gained him the applause of his father

Just then, Cornelia appeared.

‘*Supper is laid,’’ she cried.

One moment later, all the guests were sitting down in
the dining-room, and the meal was consumed to the last
crumb of bread.

It would have seemed as though everything was forgotten
already, when Clovy brought the conversation back to the
famous safe:

‘‘Why, the thought now strikes me, boss. What a sell
for those two scoundrels!”’

“How’s that?’’ inquired John.

‘‘As they haven’t the word for the lock, they’ll never be
able to open the safe.’’

‘‘And that’s why I feel sure they’ll bring it back!”
answered Mr. Cascabel with an outburst of laughter.

And this extraordinary man, wholly absorbed by his new
project, had already forgotten both the theft and the thieves!

CHAPTER V:

ON THE ROAD.

ES! on the road to Europe, but this time, according to

an itinerary which is adopted by few only and which

can hardly be recommended to travelers who are hard-

pressed. :

‘‘And, still, we are so,’’ thought Mr. Cascabel to him-
self, ‘‘especially hard pressed for money!”’

The start took place in the morning of the 2d of March.

_ At early morn, Vermont and Gladiator were put to the

46 CESAR CASCABEL.

Fair Rambler. Mrs. Cascabel took her place in the wagon
with Napoleona, leaving her husband and her two sons to
go on foot, whilst Clovy held the reins. As to John Bull,
he had perched himself on the railing, and the two dogs
were already running ahead.

It was beautiful weather. The new sap of spring swelled
the early buds on the shrubs, Nature was beginning to
unbosom those charms that she eventually unfolds in such
profusion under Californian skies. The birds warbled in —
the foliage of the evergreen trees, the green oaks, and the
white oaks, and the pine-trees whose slender trunks swung
to and fro over huge sheaves of heather. Here and there
clumps of dwarf chestnut-trees, and here and there one of
those apple-trees, the fruit of which, under the name of
manzanilla, is used for the making of Indian cider.

Whilst checking the adopted route on his map as he went
along, John did not forget that it was his especial duty like-
wise to supply the kitchen with fresh game. Indeed} in
case of need, Marengo would have given him a reminder.
A good huntsman and a good dog are made for each other.
And they are never in closer sympathy than where there is
abundance of game, which was the case in the present
instance. Rarely it was that Mrs. Cascabel had not to dis-
play her skill on a hare, a crested partridge, a heath-cock, or
a few of those mountain quails with pretty little egrets, the
sweet-scented flesh of which is such delicate eating. If
game proved so plentiful all the way to Behring’s Strait,
right through the plains of Alaska, our traveling family
would have but little expense to incur for their daily food.
Beyond that, perhaps, on the continent of Asia, they might
not be so well supplied. But they would see about it, when
the Yair Rambler had entered the endless steppes of the .
Tchuktchis.

Everything was therefore going on for the best. Mr.
Cascabel was not a man to neglect the favorable circum-

HELPED AND NOT PILLAGED THIS TIME,—Page 48.

2

ON THE ROAD. 47

stances that the weather and the temperature afforded him
just then, ‘The utmost speed was made, compatible with the
horses’ powers of endurance, and every advantage taken of
the roads that the summer rains would render impracticable
afew months later. This resulted in an average of twenty
to twenty-five miles per twenty-four hours, with a halt in the
middle of the day for a meal and a rest, and a halt at six in
the evening for the night encampment. The country was
not as solitary as might be imagined. The field labors of
spring-time called out the farmers, to whom this rich and
generous soil procures a life of comfort which they would
be envied in any other part of the globe. Frequently, be-
sides, they came across farms, hamlets, villages and even
towns, especially when the “ar Rambler followed the left
bank of the Sacramento, through that region which once
was pre-eminently the gold country and still continues to
bear the significant name of Eldorado.

In conformity with the programme made out by the
leader, the troupe gave performances wherever an opportu-
nity presented itself for the display of its talents. . It had
not been heard of yet in this part of California; and do you
not find everywhere people who ask nothing better than
to enjoy themselves? At Placerville, at Auburn, at Marys-
ville, at Tehama, and other more or less important cities,
somewhat weary of the ever-recurring American circus
which visits them at periodical intervals, the Cascabels
received an equal proportion of applause and of cents, the

latter mounting up toa few dozen dollars. Napoleona’s

ip

gracefulness and courage, Sander’s extraordinary supple-
ness, John’s marvelotis skill as a juggler, not to forget
Clovy’s drolleries and tricks, were appreciated by good
judges as they deserved to be. The very dogs did wonders
in company with John Bull. As to Mr. and Mrs. Cascabel,
they proved themselves worthy of their fair fame, the former
in muscular exercises, the latter in open-hand wrestling

48 CAESAR CASCABEL.

encounters in which she brought to the ground such ama-
teurs as ventured to meet her.

By the r2th of March, the Fair Rambler had reached the
little town of Shasta, on which the mountain of the same
name looks down from a height of fourteen thousand feet.
Toward the west could be noticed the ill-defined outline of
the Coast Ranges, which, luckily, had not to be crossed to
reach the frontier of Oregon. But the country was very
hilly; the route lay between the whimsical easterly offshoot-
ings of the mountain, and along those scarce-trodden roads
the wagon proceeded but slowly. Moreover, the villages
were becoming few and far between. Naturally it would
have been better to journey along through the territories
close to the coast where natural obstacles were less numer-
ous, but these lie on the other side of the Coast Ranges,
and the passes of the latter are so to say impracticable. It
therefore appeared a wiser plan to travel northward, and
only to touch the very edges of the Ranges, at the frontier
of Oregon.

Such was the advice given by John, the geographer of the
troupe, and it was deemed prudent to adopt it.

On the roth of March, when Fort Jones had been left
behind, the “air Raméler halted in view of the little town of
Yreka. Here, a warm welcome, and not a few dollars. It
was the first appearance of a French troupe in this part.
Every one to his taste! In those far away districts of
America, the children of France excite none but friendly
feelings. They are always received with open arms, and a
great deal better, most assuredly, than they would be by’
certain of their European neighbors.

In this locality they were able to hire, at a moderate price,

a few horses that proved a help to Vermont and Gladiator.
Thus the Fair Rambler was enabled to cross the chain at
the foot of its northern extremity, and this time without
being pillaged by its drivers.

ON THE ROAD. 49

Although not exempt from obstacles and delays, this part
of the journey was accomplished without any accidents,
thanks to the measures of precaution that were adopted.

At last, on the 27th of March, at a distance of some three
hundred miles from the Sierra Nevada, the atv Rambler
crossed the frontier of the Oregon Territory. The valley
was bounded to the east by Mount Pitt, standing up like a
style on the surface of a sun-dial.

Horses and men had worked hard. A little rest was
needed at Jacksonville. Then the Rogue river having been
crossed, the caravan followed a track that meandered as far
as the eye could reach along the sea-coast toward the north.

The country was rich, hilly still, and very favorable to
agriculture. On all sides, meadows and woods; practically
a continuation of the Californian region. Here and there
were bands of Shastas and Umpqua Indians, roving about
the country. There was nothing to be feared at their hands,

It was at this time that John, who kept on reading the
books of travels of his little library,—for he was determined
to turn his studies to profit—thought fit to give his people a
warning which it was deemed opportune to heed.

They were a few miles to the north of Jacksonville, in the
middle of a district covered with immense forests and pro-
tected by Fort Lane which stands on a hill at a height of
two thousand feet.

‘‘We shall have to be very careful,’’ said John, ‘‘for this
country swarms with serpents.”’

‘“‘Serpents!’’ screamed Napoleona with affright, “‘ser-
pents! Let us go away, father!”’

“Don’t be uneasy, child!’’ answered Mr. Cascabel.

“We shall get on all right, if we only take some precau-

J
A
.

'

tions.”’
‘‘Are those nasty things dangerous?’’ inquired Cornelia.

“Very dangerous, mother,’’ replied John. ‘‘They are
rattlesnakes, the most dangerous of serpents. If you avoid

5° CAESAR CASCABEL.

them, they do not attack you; but if you touch them, if you
knock against them unintentionally, they stand up, swoop
down on you and bite you; and their bites are almost
always fatal.’’

‘“Where do they lie?’’ asked Sander.

‘‘Under dry leaves where they are not easily noticed,”’
replied John. ‘‘Still, as they make a rattling sound by
shaking the rings on their tail, you have time to avoid them.’’

“If so, then,’’ said Mr. Cascabel, “‘let us mind our p’s
and q’s (the serpent’s q’s, of course) and keep our ears
open!’’

John had been quite right to draw attention to this fact;
serpents were very numerous in Western America. Not
alone did the Crotalidz abound, but the Tarentulz likewise,
the latter almost as dangerous as the former.

Needless to add that the utmost caution was used, and
each one looked on the ground as he walked. There was
an eye to be kept, moreover, to the horses and the other
animals of the troupe, no less exposed than their masters to
the attacks of the insects and the reptiles.

Besides, John had thought it his duty to add that these
dreaded snakes had a deplorable habit of creeping their way
into houses, and, doubtless, were equally disrespectful of
carriages. A possibility of their paying-an unpleasant visit
to the Hair Rambler was therefore to be feared.

And so,.when the evening had come, how carefully they
looked under the beds, under the furniture, in every nook
and corner! And what screams. Napoleona would utter ©
when she fancied she saw one of those ugly reptiles and
mistook some coil of rope or other for a crotalus, deprived
though it was of a triangular head! And the fits of terror
she had when, in semi-wakefulness, she imagined she heard
the noise of a rattle at the other end of the compartment!
It must be said that Cornelia was hardly braver than her
daughter. Bae

ON THE ROAD. é1

‘Look here,’é exclaimed her husband, losing patience one
day, ‘‘the devil take both the snakes that frighten the
women, and the women that are afraid of snakes! Mother
Eve was not such a coward, and many a chat she had with
them!”’

‘‘Oh!—that was in the earthly paradise!’’ said the little
girl.

“And that was not the best thing she ever did, either!’
added Mrs. Cascabel.

This state of things kept Clovy busy every night. At
first, he had hit upon the plan of lighting large fires, for
which the forest supplied the necessary fuel; but John sug-
gested to him that if the light of the fire was able to keep
the serpents away, it was likely to attract the tarentule.

On the whole, our travelers felt really easy in their minds
only in the villages where now and then the Hazr Rambler
halted to spend a night; there, danger was infinitely less.

Nor were these villages very far apart from each other;
witness Cannonville on the Cow Creek, Roseburg, Roches-
ter, Yoculla where Mr. Cascabel pocketed more dollars.
All things considered, as he earned more than he spent, the
prairies supplying him with grass for his horses, the forest
with game for his kitchen, the streams with fish for his table,
the journey really cost nothing. And the produce of the
performances kept on heaping up. But, alas! how far they
were from the two thousand dollars, stolen in the Sierra
Nevada Pass!

However, if the little troupe eventually escaped the bites
of the snakes and of the tarentule, they were to be visited

in a different way. And it happened just a few days later;
so numerous and manifold are the means devised by nature
to test the patience of poor mortals here below!

The wagon, ever rumbling up through the Oregon dis-
trict, had just passed Eugene City. This name had proved
asource of genuine pleasure, pointing out, as it did, the

\.§2 CESAR CASCABEL,

French origin of the settlement. Mr. Cascabel would have
been glad to know that countryman of his, that Eugene who
was doubtless one of the founders of the said town. He
must have been a worthy man, and, if his name does not
appear among the modern names of French kings, the
Charles, the Louis, the Francis, the Henrys, the Philippes,—
and the Napoleons, it is French none the less, thoroughly
French!

After a halt in the towns of Harrisburg, Albany and Jef-
ferson, the Fair Rambler *‘dropped anchor’’ before Salem,
a rather important city, the capital of Oregon, built on one
of the banks of the Villamette.

It was the 3d of April.

There, Mr. Cascabel allowed twenty-four hours’ rest to
his staff,—at least in so far as they were travelers; for the
public square of the town was turned to advantage by the
artists, and a round sum rewarded their exertions.

During their leisure moments John and Sander, hear-
ing that the river was looked upon as abounding in fish, had
gone and enjoyed the pleasure of angling.

But, the following night, behold father, mother, children
all suffering such tortures, from a feeling of itching right
over the body, as to suggest the possibility of their being the
victims of one of those old practical jokes still played at
country weddings.

And great was their wonderment, on the next morning,
when they looked at each other!

“Why, Iam as red asa Far West Indian!’’ exclaimed
Cornelia.

‘‘And I am swelled out like a gold beater’s skin,’’ cried
Napoleona.

‘““And Iam one mass of blisters from head to foot!’’
said Clovy.

“What does it all mean?’’ asked Mr. Cascabel. ‘‘Have
they got the plague in these parts?”’

—_—e

ON THE ROAD. 55

“T think I know what it is,’’ answered John, as he

examined his arms, speckled with reddish spots.
e What?’

‘We have caught the yedra, as it is called here.’

“The devil take your yedra! Come, John, will you, tell
us the meaning of it?”’

“The yedra, father, is a plant which you have only to
smell, to touch, or even, so they say, to look at, to suffer
from its evil power. It poisons you at a distance.”’

‘How is that? We are poisoned,’’ asked Mrs. Cascabel,

**poisoned !”’

“Don’t be afraid, mother,’’ John hastened to reply.
“We shall get over it with a little itching and perhaps a
little fever; that will be all.’’

The explanation was the correct one. This yedra isa
dangerous, an extremely venomous plant. When the wind is
loaded with the almost impalpable pollen of this shrub, if
the skin be but touched by it, it reddens, gets covered with
pimples, and becomes marbled with blotches. Probably,
while crossing the woods in the neighborhood of Salem, Mr.
Cascabel and his people had happened to be in a current of
yedra, On the whole, the pustular eruption they suffered
from hardly lasted twenty-four hours, during which time, it
is true, there was such general scratching and rubbing as to
excite the jealousy of John Bull, on whose favorite and
continual occupation, this seemed an encroachment on the
part of mankind.

On the 5th of April, the “air Raméler left Salem, bringing
away a very lively remembrance of the few hours spent in
the forests of the Villamette,—a pretty name fora river, for
all that, and one with a pleasant sound for French ears.

By the 7th of April, after calling at Fairfield, at Clackamas,
Oregon City, Portland, towns already grown into impor-
tance, the troupe reached without any other accident, the
banks of the Columbia River, on the frontier of that state

54 CESAR CASCABEL.

of Oregon, three hundred and fifty miles of which they had
just traveled over.

To the north stretched out Washington Territory.

It is mountainous in that portion lying east of the route fol-
lowed by the Har Ramdler in its endeavors to reach Behring
Strait. Here are developed the ramifications of the Cascade
Ranges, with peaks such as St. Helens, nine thousand
seven hundred feet in height, those of Mt. Baker and Mt.
Rainier eleven thousand feet high. It seems as though
nature, having spent herself in endless plains ever since she
left the coast of the Atlantic, had preserved all her upheav-
ing power to throw up the mountains with which the west
of the new continent bristles. If we were to look upon these
countries as a sea, we might say that this sea, still, unruffled,
almost asleep on the one side, is stormy and angry on
the other, and that the crests of its waves are mountain
peaks.

This was John’s remark, and the father was greatly

pleased with the comparison.
_ “*That’s right, that’s quite right!’’ he answered. ‘‘After
the sun comes the storm! Pshaw, our Fazr Rambler is not
weak about the knees! She’ll weather the storm, she will!
All sails up, lads, all sails up!’’

And the sails were set, and the Rambler continued her
cruise through these billowy regions. In truth,—to keep up
the simile,—the sea was beginning to calm down, and,
thanks to the exertions of the crew, the fair ship of the
Cascabels pulled through the worst passes unhurt. If, at
times. speed had to be slackened, they succeeded, at least,
in avoiding the reefs.

Then, a warm and sympathetic welcome always awaited
them in the little townships, at Kalama, at Monticello, as
well as at the forts, which are, strictly speaking, nothing else
but military stations. In vain would you look for ramparts
there, a paling at most; still the little garrisons occupying

AA M Nl

FAMILLE CESAR C

ABUNDANCE OF GAME.—/age 59.

ON THE ROAD. 55

these posts are sufficient to keep in due awe the wandering

Indians who roam about through the country,

That is why the Fair Rambler was threatened neither by
the Chinooks nor by the Nesquallys when it ventured into
the Walla-Walla country. When the shades of evening fell
and these Indians collected around the encampment, they
never showed any evil disposition. By far the greatest
source of surprise for them was John Bull, whose ludicrous
faces excited their laughter. They had never seen an ape,
and doubtless they took this one for one of the members
of the family. |

“Why, of course! He is a little brother of mine!’’ San-
der would say to them, in spite of Mrs. Cascabel’s most
indignant protestations.

At last they arrived in Olympia, the capital town of Wash-
ington Territory, and there “by general desire’’ was given
the last performance of the French troupe in the United
States. Now, the road would lie along the coast of the
Pacific, or rather those numerous sounds, those capricious
and manifold straits sheltered by the large islands of Van-
couver and Queen Charlotte.

After a call at Steilacoom, they had to wind round Puget
Sound, in order to reach Fort Bellingham, situated near the
strait which separates the islands from the mainland.

Then came Whatcom station, with Mt. Baker pointing
upward through the clouds at the horizon, and Simiamoo
station, at the mouth of Georgia Strait.

At length, on the 27th of April, after a trip of overa
thousand miles from Sacramento, the Hair Rambler reached
the frontier line which was adopted by the 1847 eae and
still marks the limit of British Columbia,

\

56 CAESAR CASCABEL.

CHAPTER VI..
THE JOURNEY CONTINUED.

OR the first time, Mr. Cascabel, the natural, the im-

placable enemy of England, was about setting his foot
on an English possession. For the first time the sole of his
shoe would tread on British soil and be defiled with Anglo-
Saxon dust. Let the reader forgive us such very strong
language; most undoubtedly such was the somewhat ludic-
rous form of expression under which the thought presented
itself to our showman’s mind, so tenacious in its now unjus-
tifiable patriotic hatred.

And still, Columbia was not in Europe. It was no por-
tion of that group formed by England, Scotland and Wales
and bearing the special name of Great Britain. But it was
none the less British, just as India, Australia, New Zealand:
and, as such, it was repulsive to Czesar Cascabel.

British Columbia is a part of New Britain, one of the
most important colonies of the United Kingdom, compris-
ing as it does Nova Scotia, Upper and Lower Canada, as
well as the immense territories ceded to the Hudson Bay
Company. In width, it stretches from one ocean to the
other, from the coasts of the Pacific to those of the Atlantic.
To the south it is bounded by the frontier of the United
States, a line running from Washington Territory to the
coast in the State of Maine.

Columbia was therefore, on all counts, English soil, and
the necessities of the journey left our travelers no chance of
avoiding it. When all was added up, it was only a matter
of six hundred miles to the southern extremity of Alaska,
that is to say tothe Russian possessions in Western America.
Still,:a trip of six hundred miles on ‘‘that hated soil,’’
although a mere nothing for the Mazr Rambler with its
record of untold mileage, was six hundred times too much,

THE JOURNEY CONTINUED. 57

and Mr. Cascabel was determined to clear that distance in
the shortest possible time.

Henceforth, no halting save for meals. No exercising
for the equilibrist or the gymnast, no more dancing, no
more wrestling. ‘The Anglo-Saxons would have to go with-
out it. The Cascabels felt nothing but contempt for any
coin bearing the effigy of the queen. Better a paper dollar
than a silver crown or a gold sovereign!

Under these conditions, it will be understood that the
fair Rambler carefully kept away from the villages and gave
a wide berth to the towns. If the game by the roadside
could supply the wants of the troupe, it would save them
from aiding the home trade of this abominable country.

Let it not be imagined that this attitude was but a kind
of theatrical pose on the part of Mr. Cascabel. No! It
was natural with him. This same philosopher, who had so
stoically borne the blow of his late anisfortune, who had so
quickly recovered his usual merry temper after the robbery
in the Sierra Nevada, became gloomy and speechless as soon
as he stepped into New Britain. He trudged along with
downcast eyes and a scowling look, his cap drawn down to
his ears; and wicked were the glances he cast on the inof-
fensive travelers who happened to cross his path. That he
was in no mood for jokes was plainly shown one day when
Sander drew on himself a severe rebuke for his ill-timed
mirth,

That day, sure enough, behold the youngster taking it
into his head to walk a good quarter of a mile, backwards,
in front of the horses, with a thousand and one contortions
and grimaces.

On his father’s inquiring the reason of this mode of loco-
motion, which should be, to say the least, very fatiguing:

‘‘Why, father! Aren’t we going home backwards?’’ he
replied with a wink of his eye.

And all burst out with laughter—even Clovy, who thought

58 CESAR CASCABEL.

the answer was very funny,—unless it should turn out to be
very silly.

‘*Sander,’’ said Mr. Cascabel angrily, and with his stagey
air, “if ever again you indulge in such frolic at a time when
we are so little inclined to merriment, I'll pull your ears for
you, and stretch them to your very heels!”’

‘‘Well now, father—’”’

“Silence under arms! I forbid you to laugh in this
Englishmen’s land!”’

And no one now thought of smiling or showing his teeth
in the presence of the terrible boss, although his anti-Saxon
ideas were far from being shared to that extent.

That portion of British Columbia which lies next to the
coast of the Pacific is very uneven. It is enclosed, to the
east, by the Rocky Mountains, which almost stretch to the
polar region; and the deep indentations of the Bute coast,
to the west, give it the appearance of a Norwegian coast
with its numerous fiords over which a range of mountains
raises its picturesque summits. There stand peaks unpar-
alleled in Europe, even in the middle of the Alpine region,
glaciers the depth and extent of which surpass all the glories
of Switzerland. Such are Mt. Hooker, with an altitude of
seventeen thousand four hundred feet,—say three thousand
feet higher than the loftiest plateau on Mt. Blanc—and Mt.
Brown, higher likewise than the giant of the Alps.

Along the itinerary of the Fair Rambler between the
eastern and the western ranges, lay a wide and fertile valley
with a succession of open plains and magnificent forests.
The water-course of this valley gave passage to the Fraser,
an important stream, which, after a run of some three
hundred miles from south to north, flows into a narrow arm
of the sea, bounded by the coast of Bute, Vancouver’s
Island, and the archipelago it commands.

This Vancouver's Island is two hundred and fifty miles
long and seventy-three wide. Originally purchased by the

ss

AU) ila ee Nai
Ng Wi Mae ah ap

%, ba a
‘N Di here 5 \ )

, UTERTKE §

Ro-No, THE GUIDE.—/age 60,

THE JOURNEY CONTINUED. 59

Portuguese, it was seized upon by the Spaniards, and passed
into their hands in 1789. Three times recognized by Van-
couver ata time when it was still called Noutka, it bore
both the name of the English navigator and that of Captain
Quadra, and eventually became the property of Great
Britain toward the end of the eighteenth century.

Its present capital is Victoria, its chief town Nanaimo,
Its rich coal mines, at first worked by agents of the Hudson
Bay Company, constituted one of the most active branches
of the trade of San Francisco with the various ports along
the western coast.

A little to the north of Vancouver, the mainland is shel-
tered by Queen Charlotte Island, the most important of the
archipelago of that name, and the last of the British posses-
sions in this part of the Pacific.

It will be readily guessed that Mr. Cascabel had no more
a thought of visiting this capital than he dreamt of calling at
Adelaide or Melbourne in Australia, at Madras or Calcutta
in India. His only care was going up the valley of the
Fraser as swiftly as his horses could go, holding inter-
course, meanwhile, with none but Indian natives.

Indeed on their journey northward through the valley,
our travelers easily found the game necessary to their sus-
tenance. There was an abundance of deer, hares and part-
ridges, and ‘‘on this occasion at least,’” Mr. Cascabel would
say, ‘‘it was respectable people were fed by the game so
surely and safely brought down by the gun of his eldest son.
That game had no Anglo-Saxon blood in its veins; a French-
man might partake of it without remorse!’’

After passing Fort Langley, the wagon had already sunk
deeply in the valley of the Fraser. It had been vain to look
for a carriage road on this soil which man seemed to leave
almost entirely to itself. Along the right bank of the river,
stretched out wide pasture lands extending to the forests
in the west, and enclosed far away with a horizon of moun-

60 CAESAR CASCABEL.

tains the summits of which stood out in bold relief on an
ever gray sky.

It should be mentioned that, near Westminster, one of
the chief towns along the coast of Bute, almost at the
mouth of the Fraser, John had taken care to bring the Fazr
Rambler across the river, on the ferry that plies there
between the two banks. And an excellent precaution it
was; now, after going up the river to its spring, the party
would only have to bear somewhat to the west. It was the
shortest, the most practical way to reach that portion of
Alaska which is adjacent to the Columbian frontier.

Over and above this, Mr. Cascabel had had the good luck
to meet with an Indian who had offered to guide him to the
Russian possessions, and the trust he had placed in this
native was not to prove unmerited. Of course this was
additional expense; but it was best not to look at a few dol-
lars more or less, when the security of the travelers and the
rapidity of the journey were in question.

This guide was called Ro-No. He belonged to one of those
tribes whose Zy/7s, or chiefs, have frequent intercourse with
Europeans. These Indians are in every way different from
the Chilicots, a deceitful, cunning, savage tribe, against
whom travelers should be on their guard in the northwest of
America. <A few years before, in 1864, these savages had
had their share in the slaughter of a whole company of men
who had been sent to the coast of Bute for the laying down
of a road. Was it not under their blows that Engineer
Waddington had fallen, whose death was so universally
regretted throughout the colony? Was it not said that, at
that very time, these Chilicots had torn out the heart of one
of their victims, and had devoured it, like so many Aus-
tralian cannibals?

John, who had read the tale of this frightful tragedy in
Frederick Whymper’s travels through North America, had
thought it his duty to warn his father of the danger of an

wag hbing ys

\s}

EP RELI HEY

BARELY IN TIME.—VPage 63

‘f
x
4

A

\
THE JOURNEY CONTINUED. 61

encounter with the Chilicots; but naturally no mention of it
had been made to the other members of the family, whom it
was needless to frighten. Indeed, since this shocking event,
these redskins had kept prudently out of the way, awed as
they had been by the hanging of a few of their number, who
had been more directly implicated in the affair. This belief
was corroborated by guide Ro-No, who impressed it on the
travelers that they had no cause for anxiety while going
through British Columbia.

The weather continued to keep fair. Already indeed the
heat began to be severely felt for a couple of hours in the
middle of the day. The buds commenced to expand along
the branches swollen with sap; leaves and flowers soon
blended their vernal tints.

The country presented that aspect so characteristic of
northern zones. The valley of the Fraser was encased in
the midst of forests abounding with the scented trees of the
north, cedars and firs, and likewise those Douglas pines
whose trunks measure forty-five feet in circumference and
whose tops rise to a height of over a hundred feet above the
ground. Both the woods and the valley were plentifully
stocked with game, and, without going much out of his
way, John easily supplied the daily requirements of the
kitchen.

Nor did the district in any way bear the look of a desert.
Here and there were villages in which the Indians seemed
to live in comparative amity with the Anglo-Saxon adminis-
tration. Up and down the river glided little flotillas of
canoes made of cedar wood, borne down by the current
itself, or propelled against it with paddle and sail.

Frequently, too, they fell in with bands of redskins,
on the tramp southward. Wrapped in their white woolen

_ cloaks, they would exchange a few words with Mr. Casca-

bel, who managed, somehow, to make out something of

what they said; for they used a singular dialect, the Chi-

62 CESAR CASCABEL.

nook, a mixture of French, English, and the native lan-
guage.

‘*There!’’ he would exclaim, ‘‘who would have thought
I knew Chinook! Another language I can talk without
ever having learnt it!’’

Chinook is, indeed,—so Ro-No said,—the name given to
that language throughout Western America, and it is used
by the various tribes in those parts, right into the Alaskan
provinces.

By this time, the warm season having thus far advanced,
it is needless to say that the snows of winter had completely
disappeared, although they sometimes keep on to the last
days of April. And so the journey was progressing under
favorable circumstances.

Short of overtiring them, Mr. Cascabel urged on his
horses as much as he prudently could, so desirous was he of
leaving Columbian territory. The temperature was rising
gradually, a fact that would have been evident, were it but
by the number of mosauitoes, which soon became unbear-
able. It was very hard to keep them out of the Fazr Ram-
bler, even with the precautionary measure of having no
lights after darkness had fallen.

“You villainous creatures!’’ cried Mr. Cascabel one day,
after an unsuccessful chase with these exasperating insects.

“‘T should like to know what use are those horrible flies?”’
asked Sander.

**They are of use,—to eat us up,’’ replied Clovy.

“And especially to eat the English residents of Colum-
bia,’’ added Mr. Cascabel. ‘‘So, children, I positively for-
bid you to kill a single one of them! There will never be
too many for my English lords, and that’s a consolation
for me!”’

During this portion of the journey our marksman’s gun
was more productive than ever. The game often ‘“‘rose’’
of themselves, and more especially the deer, which came

’

THE JOURNEY CONTINUED. 63

from the forests to the plain to quench their thirst in the
cool waters of the Fraser. With Wagram forever at his
heels, John was able to bring down a few without having to
go farther out of his road than might have been prudent,—
which would have been a source of anxiety to his mother.
Sander would sometimes go with him, happy to try his first
shots under his big brother; and it would not have been
easy to tell which was the fleeter or the longer-winded run-
ner, the young hunter or his spaniel.

However, John had had but a few deer on his record,
when he was lucky enough, one day, to killa bison. On
that occasion, it is true, he ran real danger; for the animal,
merely wounded by his first shot, made a dart toward him,
and he barely had time to spot him with a second bullet in
the head, ere he himself would have been knocked to the
ground and torn to pieces by the brute. As may be imag-
ined, he refrained from giving any details of this adven-
ture. But the exploit having been accomplished within a
few hundred paces of the Fraser, the horses had to be taken
down to the spot, to drag home the enormous buffalo, whose
bushy mane gave it the appearance of a lion. .

The reader knows how useful this ruminant is to the
prairie Indian, who never hesitates to attack it with his spear
or his arrows. His hide is the bed of the wigwam, the
clothing of the family; some of those ‘‘garments’’ there are
which will fetch twenty piastres. As to the flesh, the
natives dry itin the sun and then cut it in long slices: a pre-
cious reserve for times of famine.

If, generally speaking, Europeans eat only the tongue of
: the bison,—and, in truth, it is an exquisite tid-bit,—the staff
_ of the little troupe exhibited much less epicurean taste.

Nothing was thought fit to be despised for those young
“digestive organs. Besides, served up in Cornelia’s happy
style, the bison’s flesh, whether toasted, roasted, or boiled,
was pronounced excellent, and was sufficient for a number

ea

64 . CESAR CASCABEL.

of meals. Of the animal’s tongue, each one could have but
a small morsel, and it was unanimously agreed nothing
choicer had ever been tasted.

During the first fortnight of the journey through Colum-
bia no other incident worthy of notice occurred. How-
ever, there were signs of a coming change in the weather,
and the time was not far distant when downpours of tor-
rents of rain would, if not check, at least delay, any
advance northward.

There was also to be dreaded a possibility of the swollen
Fraser overflowing its banks. Now, such an overflow would
have placed the Fazv Rambler in the greatest dilemma, not
to say the greatest danger.

Fortunately, although, when the rain fell, the Fraser did
swell with great rapidity, it only rose to the level of its
banks. Thus the plains escaped being flooded right to the
edge of the forests that begin rising, in terrace fashion,
from the first upheaving of the valley. Of course, the
wagon proceeded now but very slowly, its wheels sinking
into the softened ground, but under its strong and taut roof,
the Cascabels continued to fimd that safe shelter it had
already afforded them so often against the gale and the
storm.

CHAPTER vide
THROUGH CARIBE ODO:

OOD honest Cascabel, why had you not come a few

years sooner, and visited then the country you are about
to travel through in this part of British Columbia? Why
had not the ups and downs of your nomadic life brought
you here when gold lay on the ground, and all that was
needed was to stoop and pick it up! Why should the tale,
told by John to his father, concerning that extraordinary

THROUGH CARIBOO. 65

i

period, be the story of the past, not the history of the
present!

“This, now, is the Cariboo, father,’’ said John, that day;
““but you may not know, perhaps, what the Cariboo is?’’

“Not the slightest idea,’’ answered Mr. Cascabel. ‘‘Is
it a biped, or a four-footed animal?’’

“An animal?’’ exclaimed Napoleona. ‘‘Is it a large
one? And is it very cruel? And does it bite?’’

“Cariboo is indeed the name of an animal,’’ replied
John; ‘“‘but in this. instance it is simply a district bearing
that name; itis the gold country, the Eldorado of Columbia,
What wealth it contained once! And how many people it
has enriched!”’

“And how many it has beggared at the same time, [
guess!’’ added Mr. Cascabel.

“No doubt, father, and, we may be sure, that was the
majority. Still, there were miners’ associations whose tak-
ings went up to two thousand marks a day. In a certain
valley of this Cariboo, William Creek valley, gold was
picked up in handfuls.”’

And yet, considerable as was the yielding of this aurifer-
ous valley, too many people had come to work it. And so,
owing to the accumulation of gold-seekers and the mob they
attract along with them, life soon became a matter of diffi-
culty there, not to speak of the prodigious rise in the price

of everything. Food was priceless; bread was a dollar a
pound. Contagious diseases broke out in the midst of these
unhealthy surroundings. Finally came misery, and, in its
train, death, for the greater number of those who had
flocked to this spot. Was this not a repetition of what had
taken place, a few years before, in Australia and in Cali-
fornia?
¥: ‘‘Father,’’ said Napoleona, ‘‘all the same it would be nice
to find a big lump of gold on our road!”’
_ “And what would you do with it, pet?”

66 CESAR CASCABEL.

“‘What would she do with it?’’ Cornelia replied. ‘‘She
would bring it to dear little mother and she, I guess, would
very soon have it exchanged for its value in current
money !”’

‘‘Well, let us have an eye open,” said Clovy, ‘‘and for
sure, we can’t but find something, unless—”’

“‘Unless we find nothing, you were going to say,’’ said
John. ‘And that is just what will happen, my poor Clovy;
the gold box has been emptied,—regularly emptied clean
out.”’

“‘Well!—Well!’’ replied Sander, “‘we shall see!"’

‘*That’s enough, children!’’ exclaimed Mr. Cascabel, in
his most imperative tone of voice. ‘‘I forbid any of you to
enrich himself in that manner. Gold picked up on English
soil! Fie! Let us pass on,—let us pass on, I say, without
stopping, without stooping tospick up a nugget, even if it
were the size of Clovy’s head! And when we get to the
frontier, should there be no card stuck up, with the words
‘Please wipe your feet,’ we shall give ours a good wiping,
my children, so as to take away no part or parcel of this
Columbian soil with us!”’ ,

Always the same Cesar Cascabel! But let him be easy
in his mind! It is probable that not one member of his
family will have the least chance of picking up the smallest
particle of gold.

For all that, and notwithstanding Mr. Cascabel’s prohi-
bition, many a side glance was cast on the ground, along the
road. A pebble of any sort seemed to Napoleona, and espe-
cially to Sander, as though it should be worth its weight in
gold. And why not? In the list of auriferous countries,
does not North America hold the foremost rank? Aus-
tralia, Russia, Venezuela, China, are only next to her.

Meanwhile, the rainy season had set in. Every day
heavy showers came down, and progress became the more
arduous.

’

Ph
»

THROUGH CARIBOO. 67

The Indian guide spurred the horses onward. He feared
‘lest the rios or creeks, affluents of the Fraser, hitherto
‘almost dry, should suddenly fill up; and, how would they

be crossed over if no fords could be found? The Fair
Rambler would run the risk of standing still, in distress, for
the several weeks that the rainy season lasts. All speed
then should be made to get out of the valley of the
Fraser.

We said the natives in these parts were no longer to be

dreaded since the Chilicots were driven to the east. This
was quite true; but there were certain formidable animals—

bears amongst others—an encounter with which would have
proved really dangerous.

This fact Sander learned by experience, on an occasion
when he well-nigh paid dearly the fault he had committed

of disobeying his father.

It was on the afternoon of the 17th of May. A halt had
been made some fifty paces beyond a creek that the party had
just crossed dry-footed. This creek, deeply buried as it

was, would have proved an insurmountable obstacle, if per-
chance a sudden rise of the waters had transformed it into
a torrent.

The halt was to be of a couple of hours’ duration. John
‘went ahead in search of game; and Sander, although
‘ordered not to leave the encampment, crossed back the

creek unnoticed and went back along the road, carrying
‘Nothing with him but a rope, about a dozen feet long, coiled
around his waist. e
_ The lad had an idea in his head: he had noticed, by the
F roadside, a beautiful bird with many-colored plumage; he
heant to chase it home so as to find out its nest; then with
the help of the rope, he would have little eaunle in climb-
ng up any tree to possess himself of it.
In thus betaking himself away Sander committed an error
the greater as the weather was threatening. A dark

68 CESAR CASCABEL.

cloud was gathering overhead. But what will stop a lad
running after a bird?

In a few moments Sander was rushing down a thick for-
est, the first trees of which bordered the left bank of the
creek. The bird fluttering, from branch to branch, seemed
to take a delight in enticing him along.

Sander, his mind full of his chase, was forgetting that the
fair Rambler should start off again in two hours’ time; and,
within twenty minutes of his leaving the camp, he had dived
a couple of miles into the depths of the forest. Here no
roads, nothing more than narrow paths, netted over with
brushwood, at the foot of the cedars and the pine trees.

The bird, with many a merry twitter, winged it lightly
from tree to tree, and Sander ran and leaped like a young
wild-cat. Such efforts, however, were doomed to be fruit-
less: the bird eventually disappeared in the undergrowth.

‘‘Well, go to Jericho!’’ exclaimed Sander, as he stopped
short, annoyed at his failure.

Then, only, through the foliage, he noticed the cloudy
sky above. Sheets of light fitfully brightened the darkened
verdure around.

They were the first flashes of lightning, quickly followed
by long peals of thunder.

“Tt is high time to go home,’’ the young lad thought to
himself, ‘‘and what will father say?”’

Just then his attention was attracted by a singular-looking
object, a peculiarly shaped stone, of the size of a pine-cone,
and bristling with metallic points. +

Of course, in our youth’s mind, this was a nugget, for-
gotten by somebody in this part of Cariboo. And witha —
cry of joy, he stoops for it, weighs it in his hand, and con-
signs it to his pocket, promising himself not to breathe a
word about it to anybody. .

“We shall see what they will say about it some day, when
I have changed it for fine gold coins!’’

INTO THE FOREST AFTER A Birvd.—/’ege 68.

THROUGH CARIBOO. 69

Sander had scarcely pocketed his precious stone, when
the storm burst with a terrific thunderclap. And its last
echoes still lingered in the air, when a wild roar was
heard.

At a distance of twenty paces, in the middle of the
thicket, stood up a huge grizzly bear.

Full of courage as he was, Sander took to flight with all
his might, in the direction of the creek. Instantly, the bear
was after him.

If Sander could only reach the bed of the stream, get to
the other side and away to the camp, he was saved. His
people would be well able to keep the grizzly at a respectful
distance on the left bank of the creek, or perhaps to level
him to the ground and make a bed-room rug of him.

But the rain now fell in torrents, the flashes of lightning
were more frequent, and the heavens shook with the roars
of thunder. Sander, drenched to his skin, hindered in his
flight by his wet garments, was in danger of stumbling at
every step, and a fall would have left him at the mercy of
the brute. Still he managed to keep his distance, and in
less than a quarter of an hour he was on the bank of the
creek.

Here he now faced an insurmountable obstacle. The
creek, transformed into a veritable torrent, whirled along
stones, trunks and stumps of trees torn away by the violence
of the flood. The waters had risen to the level of the banks.
Plunging into this whirlpool was rushing to death without
a chance of escape.

To return on his steps, Sander dared not venture. He
felt the bear on his heels, ready to take him in his grasp.
And the Fair Rambler was hardly visible, yonder under the
trees; letting its occupants know of his presence here was
out of the question.

Almost without a thought on his part, instinct suggested
to him the only thing that might save him perhaps.

7° CAESAR CASCABEL.

A tree stood there, within five paces of him, a cedar, the
lowest branches of which overhung the creek.

Making a dart for it, clasping its trunk in his arms, hoist-
ing himself up to the fork with the help of the bumps on the
bark, and gliding along through the inferior horizontal
branches, all this was for the lad the work of an instant.
An ape would not have been more clever or more supple.
Nor was this surprising on the part of a little clown; and
now, he could think himself safe.

Alas, it was not for long. The bear, who had taken up
a position at the foot of the tree, was preparing to climb up,
so that it would be very hard to escape him, even by taking
refuge among the highest branches,

Sander lost none of his presence of mind. Was he not
the worthy son of the famous Cascabel, with whom getting
safe and sound through the hardest passes had grown into
a habit?

Leave the tree, he should, of necessity; but how? And
afterward, get across the torrent; butin what way? Thanks
to the rise occasioned by the deluge of rain, the creek was
now overflowing, and its waters spread over the right bank
in the direction of the camp. |

Calling for help?—His cries could not possibly be heard
in the deafening crash of the furious storm. Besides, sup-
posing that Mr. Cascabel, John or Clovy had set out in
search of the missing youth, they must have gone on ahead
along the road. How could they have guessed that Sander
had gone back across the creek?

Meanwhile the bear was climbing up—slowly; still he
was gradually coming up, and he soon would reach the fork
of the cedar whilst the boy endeavored to make his way to
the top.

It is at this moment an idea struck the lad. Seeing that
some of the branches stretched for a distance of some ten
feet over the creek, he quickly got out the rope he had

a THROUGH CARIBOO. 7!

brought around his waist, and, with a loop at the end of it,
skillfully lassoed the extremity of one of these horizontal
branches; the latter he bent upward by hauling the rope
toward himself and maintained it in this vertical position,

All this had been done cleverly, quickly and with the
utmost coolness.

There was no time, indeed, to be lost. The bear was
hugging the fork and thence smelling his way among the
boughs.

But just then, firmly grasping the top of the strained
branch, Sander let it go back like a spring, and he him-
self was hurled over the creek like a stone shot by a cata-
pult. Then, turning a splendid somersault, he landed him-
self on the edge of the right bank of the creek, while the
bear, in silly amazement, looked at his prey escaping him in
mid-air.

“‘You rascally boy!’’ It was thus Mr. Cascabel greeted
the thoughtless youth on his “‘landing,’’ just as he himself
arrived at the creek with John and Clovy, after looking in
vain for the lad round about the camp.

“You rascal!’’ he repeated. ‘‘How anxious you made
isa

“Well, father, do pull my ears
have deserved it richly!”’

But instead of settling accounts with his ears, Mr. Casca-
bel could not resist kissing both his cheeks, saying:

‘*Well, don’t do it again, or, if you do—’’

‘You'll kiss me again!”’ said Sander, giving a hearty kiss
to his father.

Ten he added:

‘I say!—What a sell for the bear! Doesn’t he look
sheepish, eh?—for all the world as if he came out of the
damaged goods’ department of a grizzly store!”’

John would have dearly liked to have a shot at the bear,

eee

answered Sander. ‘“‘I

who had climbed down and was now skulking away; but

72 CESAR CASCABEL.

going after him was not to be thought of. The flood was
still rising; there was nothing more urgent than to avoid it;
and all four returned to the Fatr Rambler.

CHAPTER VIII.
KON ACV ES: WVolds Ay G Be

WEEK after, on the 26th of May, our party had reached
L\ the springs of the Fraser. Night and day the rain had
kept coming down, but this bad weather should soon come
to a stop, so said the Indian guide.

A détour round the springs of the river, through a some-
what hilly country, and the /azr Rambler now turned due
west.

A few days more and Mr. Cascabel would be at the
Alaska frontier.

For a week past, not a village, not a hamlet had been
seen along the track selected by Ro-No. Indeed they had
every reason to prize the services of this native; he knew
the country thoroughly.

On that day, the guide informed Mr. Cascabel that he
might, if he chose, halt at a village, a short distance off,
where twenty-four hours’ rest would not be thrown away on
his horses, overworked as they had been.

‘‘What is this village?’’ inquired Mr. Cascabel, always
distrustful when the Columbian population was in question.

‘‘Kokwin village,’’ replied the guide.

““Kokwin!’’ exclaimed Mr. Cascabel. ‘‘That, in French,
would be Knaves’ Village!’’

“Yes,’’ said John, ‘‘such is the name given in the’ map;
it must be the name of some Indian tribe.’’

“Very well! very well!

Not so many explanations,’’
answered Mr. Cascabel.

| ‘*A most suitable name it is for
that village, if it is inhabited by English people, were it
but by a half dozen of them!”’

[NAVES’ VILLAGE. 73

In the course of the evening, the “air Rambler did halt
at the entrance into the village. Three days at most now
separated it from the geographical frontier between Alaska
and Columbia.

Thenceforth Mr. Cascabel would speedily recover that
happy temper of his, so severely tried on the territory of
her Britannic Majesty.

Knaves’ Village was occupied by Indians; but there were
not a few Englishmen, professional huntsmen or mere ama-
teurs, who stayed here only during the hunting season.

Among the officers of the Victoria garrison, who happened
to be there, was a baronet, Sir Edward Turner by name, a
haughty personage and a bully, infatuated with the magical
power of his nationality,—one of those ‘‘gentlemen’’ who
imagine anything is lawful for them, because of their being
Englishmen. Needless to say he hated the French quite
as much as Mr. Cascabel hated his countrymen, These
two were a match, it is evident.

Now the very evening on which the halt took place, while
John, Sander, and Clovy were gone in search of provisions,
it happened that the baronet’s dogs fell in with Wagram and
Marengo in the vicinity of the Fazr Rambler, and it was
apparent that the two French bow-wows shared the national
antipathies of their master.

Hence a disagreement between the spaniel and the poodle
on one hand, and the pointers on the other; hence a good
deal of barking and snarling, then a regular fight, and finally
the intervention of the respective owners.

On hearing the noise, Sir Edward had rushed out of the
house which he tenanted on the outskirt of the village, and
threatened Mr. Cascabel’s dogs with his whip.

The latter immediately found a protector in their master,
who made straightway for the baronet.

Sir Edward Turner—he spoke very good French—soon
found out the kind of a man he had to deal with, and break-

74 C4ESAR CASCABEL.

ing open the flood-gates of his arrogance, began to treat, @
Ja British, our showman in particular and his countrymen
in general.

Mr. Cascabel’s feelings, on hearing such language, may
easily be imagined. However, as he had no wish—espe-
cially in an English country—to get into difficulties which
might delay his journey, he bit his lips and said in a tone of
voice in no way objectionable:

“Tt was your dogs, sir, that began to. attack mine!”’

“Your dogs!’’ sneered the baronet. ‘‘A showman’s
curs!—What are they good for but to be snarled at by
my pointers or cut by my whip!”’

“T’ll pray you to observe,’’ said Mr. Cascabel, warming
up despite his intention to keep cool, “‘that what you say
there is unworthy of a gentleman!’’

“Still, what I say is the only answer that one of your
sort deserves.’’

‘‘T speak politely, sir,—you prove yourself but a cad.”’

“T advise you to take care, you who bandy words with
Sir Edward Turner.”’

Mr. Cascabel filled with passion; with blanched cheeks,
eyes aglow, and clenched fists, he was stepping up to the
baronet, when Napoleona stood by him:

“Father, do come!’’ said she. ‘‘Mamma wants you!’’

Cornelia had sent her daughter to fetch Mr. Cascabel
home to the Fazr Rambler.

‘*Presently!"’ replied the father. ‘‘Tell mamma to wait
till I have done with this gentleman, Napoleona!”’

At the mention of this name, the baronet indulged in a
sarcastic peal of laughter.

‘““Napoleona!’’ he repeated, ‘*Napoleona!—That little
lass is called after the monster who—’’

This was more than Mr. Cascabel could bear. He

stepped forward until his folded arms grazed the baronet’s
chest.

— =.

ES 2

=.
- ‘

KNAVES’ VILLAGE. 75

‘You insult me!’’ cried he.

**T insult you,—you?”

‘“Ves, me, as well as the great man who would have made
but one mouthful of your island if he had only landed
there!’’

‘Indeed?’

“Ves, would have gobbled it up lke an oyster!”’

‘“‘Contemptible clown!”’ exclaimed the baronet.

And he had moved one step back in the attitude of the
boxer who stands on the defensive.

“Yes, you do insult me, Mr. Baronet, and you shall give
me an account of it.”’

‘*Settle accounts with a showman!’’

‘“‘When you insulted the showman, you made him your
equal, sir. And fight we shall, with the sword or the pistol,
anything you like,—even with our fists!”’

‘‘Why not with bladders like the clowns on your trestles?’’

Ready, sic

“Can I have a fight with a tramp?’’

“Ves!’’? shouted Cascabel, beside himself with rage,
‘‘yes! a fight—or a sound drubbing!”’

And without minding that he was likely to have heavy
odds against him in a boxing encounter with his ‘‘gentle-
manly’’ opponent, he was about to dash at him, when Cor-
nelia herself intervened.

At the same time appeared some officers of Sir Edward
Turner's regiment, his hunting companions; they naturally
sided with the baronet, determined as they were not to per-
mit him to measure himself with a fellow of that ‘‘tribe,”’
and heaped their insults on the Cascabel family. Indeed
these insults were powerless to move the self-composed Cor-
nelia—at least outwardly. She contented herself with
throwing on Sir Edward Turner a glance that was anything
but reassuring for the man who had insulted her husband.

John, Clovy, and Sander had also appeared on the scene,

76 CAESAR CASCABEL.

and the dispute would have degenerated into a general bat-
tle, when Mrs. Cascabel cried out:

‘““Come, Cesar; come along, children !—Now then, all of
us to the Fair Rambler, and quicker than that!’’

There was such an imperative ring in the tone of her
voice, that no one thought of disobeying the order.

What an evening Mr. Cascabel spent! His anger could
not cool down! He, touched in his honor, touched in the
person of his hero! Insulted by an Englishman! He
woula go to him, he would fight him, he wow/d fight all his
companions, and all the knaves of Knaves’ Village! And
his children were but too ready to go and back him. Clovy
himself talked of nothing short of eating an Englishman’s
nose,—unless it were his ear!

In truth, Cornelia found it no easy task to calm down
all her enraged folks. In her heart, she knew that all the
wrong was on Sir Edward Turner’s side; she could not
deny that her husband first, and every member of the family
after him, had received such treatment as showmen of the
lowest type would not give each other at a fair!

Still, as she would not let matters grow worse, she would
not give in; she showed a bold front to the storm, and when
he expressed what she thought would be his final determina-
tion to go and give the baronet such a drubbing as would,—
she said to him:

““Ceesar, I forbid you!”’

And Mr. Cascabel, gnawing his heart, had to yield to his
wife’s command.

How Cornelia longed to see the dawn of the next day,
when they would leave the unlucky village! She would not
feel easy until her family would be a few miles farther to
the north. And, so as to be sure that nobody would leave
the wagon during the night, not only did she carefully lock

the door of the Yair Rambler but she mounted guard out-
side, herself,

_—

BrAR, Twenty Paces Orr.—Page 69.

‘

KNAVES’. VILLAGE. 77

The next day, the 27th of May, at three in the morning,
Cornelia awoke the whole troupe. By way of greater safety,
she was anxious to be off before dawn, when all the vil-
lagers, Indians or Englishmen, would still be sleeping. ‘This
was the best way to prevent a fresh resuming of hostilities.
Even at that early hour—a. detail worth noticing—the
good woman seemed in a singular hurry to raise the camp,
All agitation, with anxious features and beaming eyes, pry-
ing to the right and to the left, she urged, harassed, and
scolded her husband, her children, and Clovy, who were not
half quick enough to please her.

“In how many days shall we have crossed the frontier?’’
she asked of the guide.

“Tn three days,’’ replied Ro-No, “‘if we have no hin-
drance on the road.”’

‘‘Now then, forward, march!’’ she cried. ‘‘And above
all, let no one see us going away!”’

It should not be imagined that Mr. Cascabel had swal-
lowed the insults thrust down his throat the previous night.
Leaving this village without squaring up that little account
with the baronet was indeed hard for a Norman, and a
patriotic Frenchman, to boot.

‘‘That’s what it is,’’ he kept on repeating, “‘to set your
foot in one of John Bull’s possessions.”’

Still, longing as he was to run down to the village in the
hope of coming across Sir Edward Turner, many though
the glances were that he cast toward the closed shutters of
the house inhabited by that gentleman, he dared not go
away from the terrible Cornelia. Not an instant did she
leave his side.

‘“‘Where are you going, Cesar?—Cesar, stay where you
are!—I forbid you stirring, Czsar!”’

Mr. Cascabel heard nothing else. Never had he been so
completely under the control of his excellent and self-willed
wife,

78 CESAR CASCABEL.

Fortunately, thanks to oft-repeated injunctions, all pre-
parations were soon completed, and the horses stood ready
in the shafts. By four o’clock, the dogs, the monkey and
the parrot, the husband, the sons and the daughter, were
all secured inside the azr Rambler, and Cornelia took a seat
by the front railing. Then, as soon as Clovy and the guide
were ready at the horses’ heads, the signal was given for the
start.

A quarter of an hour later Knaves’ Village had disap-
peared behind the curtain of tall trees with which it was
encircled. It was scarcely daylight. All was silence. Not
a living soul was to be seen along the vast plain that
stretched forth toward the North.

At last, when it was evident that the departure had been
accomplished without attracting the attention of any one in
the village, when Cornelia felt perfectly satisfied that neither
the Indians nor the English thought of preventing their
escape, she heaved a deep sigh of relief, at which her hus-
band felt somewhat hurt.

“How greatly frightened you seemed of those people,
~Cornelia!’’ he remarked.

‘Yes, greatly,’’ was her simple reply.

The next three days passed by without any incident, and,
as the guide had said, the extreme end of Columbia was
reached.

And having safely crossed the Alaska frontier, the Fazr
Rambler was now at liberty to rest.

Once there, the travelers had only to pay off the Indian,
who had proved as zealous as faithful, and to thank him
for his services. Then Ro-No took leave of the family,
after explaining the course they should follow to reach
Sitka, the capital of the Russian possessions, as speedily as
possible,

Now that he was on English soil no longer, Mr. Cascabel

CAN’T PASS THROUGH. 79

should have breathed more freely! Well, it was not so!
At the end of three days, he was still under the influence of
the exciting scene at Knaves’ Village. It still weighed
heavily on his chest:

“Look here,’’ he could not refrain from saying to Corne-
lia, “‘you should indeed have let me go back and settle
accounts with my English lord—’’

‘They had been settled before we left, Casar!’’ simply
answered Mrs. Cascabel.

And settled they had been, in truth,—settled and squaréd
right even!

During the ensuing night, whilst all her people were
asleep at the camp, Cornelia had gone for a stroll round the
baronet’s house, and perceiving him on his way to the woods
to lie in wait for game, she had followed him a few hun-
dred paces. Then, once under cover of the forest, ‘‘the
champion of the Chicago female encounters’’ had adminis-
tered him one of those ‘‘floorers’’ that leave a man sprawling
on the ground. Sir Edward Turner, well thrashed and sore,
had got on his legs the next morning only, and must have
felt for a long time after, unpleasant reminders of his meet-
ing with this amiable woman.

‘‘Oh, Cornelia! Cornelia!’’ exclaimed her husband, as
he pressed her in his arms, ‘‘you have avenged my honor.—
You were worthy, indeed, to be a Cascabel!’’

CEUAP TER LS
CAN’T PASS THROUGH!

LASKA is that portion of the continent comprised, to

the northwest of North America, between the fifty-sec-
ond and the seventy-second degree of latitude. It is trans-
versely cut by the line of the Arctic polar circle which
curves through Behring Strait.

80 CHSAR CASCABEL.

Look at the map with a little attention, and you will re-
cognize without much trouble the outline of a head, of the
Israelite type. The forehead is developed between Cape
Lisbon and Barrow Point; the orbit of the eye is Kotzebue
Sound; the nose is Cape Prince of Wales; the mouth is
Norton Bay; and the traditional beard is the Alaska penin-
sula, continued on by that sprinkling of Aleutian Islands
which dots the Pacific Ocean. As to the head, it ends with
the termination of the ranges, the last slopes of which die
off into the Ice Sea.

Such is the country about to be crossed obliquely by the
Fair Rambler, over a distance of eighteen hundred miles.

Of course, John had carefully studied the map, its mount-
ains, its water-courses, the shape of the coast line, in fine
the whole itinerary to be followed. He even had delivered
a little lecture on the subject, a lecture listened to with the
utmost interest by the whole family.

Thanks to him, everybody—not forgetting Clovy—knew
that this country, the northwestern extremity of the Ameri-
can continent, had first been visited by the Russians, then
by the Frenchman Lapérouse and by the Englishman Van-
couver, and lastly by the American McClure, at the time of
his expedition in search of Sir John Franklin.

In reality, the district had already been known—though
partly only—thanks to the explorations of Sir Frederick
Whymper and of Colonel Bulkley, in 1865, when there had
been a question of laying a submarine cable between the old
and the new worlds through Behring Strait. Up to this
time, the interior of Alaska had hardly been journeyed
through except by the travelers of houses in the fur and
hide trade.

It was then that Monroe’s famous doctrine made its reap-
pearance in international politics, a doctrine in accordance
with which America should be the exclusive property of
Americans. If the colonies of Great Britain, Columbia, and

SucH MAsTERs, SucH Docs.—Page 73.

CAN'T PASS THROUGH! 81

the Dominion, were fated to remain non-American for a
more or less lengthened period, Russia, perhaps, might be
induced to cede Alaska to the Union, say a hundred and
thirty-five thousand square feet of territory. And with this
‘object in view, correspondence was entered into with the
Muscovite government.

No little sneering was raised at first, in the United States,
when Secretary of State Seward proposed the purchase of
this “‘Walrus Sea,’’ which seemed likely to prove a white
elephant for the Republic. Still, Seward plodded on, with
Yankee obstinacy, and in 1867 things had made consider-
able progress. Indeed it may be said that, if the conven-
tion between America and Russia was not signed, it was
expected to be from one day to another.

It was on the evening of the 31st of May that the Casca-
bels had halted at the frontier, under a grove of tall trees.
In this spot, the Fair Rambler stood on Alaskan territory,
fully under Russian dominion, and no longer on the soil
of British Columbia. Mr. Cascabel might be free from all
uneasiness on this score.

And his good-humor had returned, and in so contagious
a manner that it was shared by all his people. Now, all
along as far as the boundary of Russia in Europe, the road
should lie uneeasingly on Muscovite territory. Be they
called Alaska, or Siberia, did not these immense countries
belong to the Czar?

Supper was unusually gay. John had killed a fine hare,
fat and plump, that Wagram had raised in the thicket; a
real Russian hare, if you please!

‘And we shall drink a good bottle!’’ said Mr. Cascabel.
“On my honor, I fancy my lungs breathe better this side
of that frontier! It looks to me like a mixture of Russian
and American air! Breathe the full of your chests, my
children! Don’t stint yourselves! ‘There is enough for
everybody—even Clovy, in spite of that thirty-six-inch nose

82 CHSAR CASCABEL.

of his! Why, I have been stifling these five weeks past,
coming through that cursed Columbia!”’

Supper over, and the last drop of the good bottle gone,
each one repaired to his bunk and his little bed. The night
was spent in the greatest calm. It was disturbed neither by
the approach of dangerous animals nor by the apparition of
wandering Indians. Next morning, horses and dogs had
completely recovered from their fatigue.

The camp was raised at early morn, and the guests of
hospitable Russia, ‘‘that sister of France,’’ as Mr. Cascabel
said, prepared for their journey. Nor was much time
needed. A little before six in the morning, the Hatr Ram-
bler was making headway, northwest, toward Simpson
River, which it would be easy to ferry across.

This spur, which Alaska shoots forth toward the south,
is a narrow strip, known under the general name of Thlin-
kilthen, and flanked, to the west, by a certain number of
islands and archipelagos, such as the isles of the Prince of
Wales, of Crooze, of Kuju, of Baranoff, of Sitka, etc. It is
in the latter island that the capital of American Russia is
situated, called likewise New Archangel. As soon as the
Fair Rambler had arrived at Sitka, Mr. Cascabel intended
halting for a few days, first of all to take some rest, and
secondly to prepare for the completion of that first portion
of his journey which was to bring him to Behring Strait.

This itinerary obliged them to follow a strip of land which
skirted in capricious zigzags the mountains of the coast line.

Mr. Cascabel started then; but he had not advanced a
step on Alaskan soil, when he was stopped short +*by an
obstacle which had every appearance of proving instr-
mountable.

Friendly Russia, the sister of France, did not seem dis-
posed to extend her hospitality to those French brethren
who constituted the Cascabel family.

For, Russia suddenly stood before them under the shape

Se

CAN’T PASS THROUGH ! 83

and form of three frontier guards, muscular fellows, with
thick beard, large heads, ‘‘tip-tilted’’ noses, a decidedly
Kalmuk look about them, wearing the dark uniform of the
Muscovite official, and that flat cap which strikes whole-
some fear into the hearts of so many millions of human
beings.

At a signal from the chief of these guards the Fur Ram-
dler stood still, and Clovy, who drove the horses, called to
his master.

Mr. Cascabel appeared at the door of the first compart-
ment and was joined by his sons and his wife. And, some-
what uneasy at the sight of these uniforms, all alighted.

‘Your passports!’’ demanded the officer in Russian—a
language Mr. Cascabel understood but too well on this
occasion.

‘“‘Passports?’’ he repeated.

“Yes, there is no entering the possessions of the Czar
without passports.’’

‘‘Why, we have none, dear sir,’’ politely answered Mr.
Cascabel.

“Then, you'll stay where you are!’’

This was clear and to the point, just like a door slammed
in an intruder’s face.

Mr. Cascabel winced. He knew how severe are the regu-
lations of the Muscovite administration; and a friendly com-
promise was a very doubtful eventuality. In truth, it was
incredible ill-luck to have come across these guards at the
very moment when the Fair Rambler had crossed the
frontier.

Cornelia and John, in great anxiety, were awaiting the
result of the conversation, on which depended the accom-
plishment of their journey.

‘*Brave Muscovites,’’ Mr. Cascabel began, bringing out
the full power of his voice and the eloquence of his gestures
to give more emphasis to his usual oratory, ‘‘we are French

84 CESAR CASCABEL.

people, traveling for our pleasure, and, I presume to say,

for the pleasure of others, more especially that of the noble
Bojars, when they condescend to honor us with their pres-
ence! We had imagined that papers could be dispensed
with in the case of the dominions of His Majesty the Czar,
Emperor of all the Russias.”’

‘Entering the Czar’s territory without a special permit,”’
was the answer, ‘‘such a thing was never seen,—never!”

‘Might it not be seen once,—just on one little occa-
sion?’’ suggested Mr. Cascabel in his most insinuating
manner.

“No,” replied the agent, stiff and dry. ‘‘And so, back
you go, and no comments!”’

‘Still, may I ask where passports may be had?’’ inquired
Mr. Cascabel.

“That’s your business!”’

‘‘Let us pass on, as far as Sitka, and there, through the
intervention of the consul of France—’’

“There is no French consul at Sitka! And besides,
where do you come from?”’

‘From Sacramento.’’

‘Well, you should have supplied yourselves with pass-
ports at Sacramento! Now, it is no use saying any more.”

‘It is very great use, on the contrary,’’ replied Cascabel,
‘as we are on our way home to Europe.’’

“To Europe!—and by what road?’’

Mr. Cascabel felt that his remark was likely to arouse
suspicions about him, for, returning to Europe by this route
was rather extraordinary.

‘‘Quite so,’’ he added. ‘‘Certain circumstances have
compelled us to come this round.’’

‘After all, that is beside the: question,’’ remarked the
officer. ‘‘Russian territories are closed to travelers without
passports !’’

“If the only thing needful is the payment of certain

yn \ *

»

as

CAN’T PASS THROUGH! 85

dues,’’ continued Mr. Cascabel, ‘‘we might come to an
understanding perhaps.’’

And a knowing wink accompanied this gentle hint.

But an understanding was not to be arrived at, even on
these conditions.

‘‘Brave Muscovites,’’ reiterated Cascabel, as a drowning
man who clutches at a straw, ‘‘have yc 1 never heard of the
Cascabel family ?”’

And he spoke the words as though the Cascabel family
were on a foot of equality with the Ro...anoff House!

The hit proved as utter a failure as the rest. They had
to turn the horses round and retrace their steps. The
guards even carried their strict orders out to the extent of
accompanying the Fair Rambler to the other side of the
frontier, with a distinct injunction to the travelers never to
cross it again. And the consequence was that Mr. Casca-
bel found himself once more, with a very long face, on the
territory of British Columbia.

It will be confessed this was an unpleasant position, nay,
a most alarming one. All the plans were now upset. The
itinerary, adopted with such enthusiasm, should now be

’

laid aside. ‘The journey home through the west, the return

to Europe by Siberia, became an impossibility for want of
passports. Going back to New York through the Far West
could be done in the usual way. But how was the Atlantic
Ocean to be crossed without a boat, and where was the boat
to be had without meney to pay the passage fare?

As to earning, along the road, a sum sufficient to cover
that amount, it would have been unwise to expect it. Be-
sides, how jong would it have takén them to save it up?
The Cascabel fimily—why not hit the nail on the head?—
must be well-nigh overdone by this time in the United
States. For th: past twenty years there was hardly a town
or a village that: the Cascabels had not ‘‘worked’’ all along
the Great Trunk, They would not now take in as many

86 CESAR CASCABEL.

cents as they formerly took dollars. No, the eastern route
was beset with endless delays; years perhaps would roll by

before they could take ship for Europe. At any cost, com- _

binations should be found which would enable the Faz
Rambler to reach Sitka. Such were the thoughts, such was
the language, of the members of this interesting family when
they were left to their painful meditations.

‘Well, here we are in a pretty pass!’’ said Cornelia, with
a shake of her head.

“Tt is not a pass at all,’’ retorted her husband, “‘you
can’t pass through, it’s a blind alley!”’

Now then, old wrestler, you the Hercules of the popular
arena, will you lack the means to get the better of your evil
fortune? Will you let yourself be nonplussed by ill-luck?
You have all the showman’s tricks and dodges at your fin-
gers’ ends, will you not succeed in juggling yourself out of
this difficulty? Is your bag of tricks really emptied out?
Can it be that your imagination, so fruitful in expedients,
will not carry off the victory in this struggle?

‘‘Ceesar,’’ said Cornelia, ‘‘since those wretched guards
happened to be on our path just in time to prevent us step-
ping into the country, let us apply to their superior
officer!’’

‘‘Their superior officer!’’ exclaimed Mr. Cascabel. “‘No
doubt, that is the Governor of Alaska, some Russian colonel,
as unmanageable as his men, and who will send us to the
devil!’’

‘‘Besides, his residence must be at Sitka, and Sitka is the
very place they wont let us go to.”’

‘“‘Who knows,’’ suggested Clovy with no little judgment,
“‘perhaps these frontier-men might not object to bring one
of us to the Governor.”’

“Why, Clovy is right,’’ answered Mr. Cascabel. “‘That’s
a good idea!”’

*

CAN’T PASS THROUGH! 87

“Unless it’s not worth a clove,’’ added the clown with
his habitual qualifying clause.

“It is worth trying before we retrace our steps,’’ replied
John, *‘‘and, if you like, father, I shall go—’’

“‘No, I had better go,”’ said Mr. Cascabel. ‘‘Is it a far
cry to Sitka?’’

“Some three hundred miles.”’

‘“‘Well, in the course of nine or ten days I can be back
here again. Let us have a sleep over it, and to-morrow we
shall make the venture!’’

Next morning, at break of day, Mr. Cascabel went out
in search of the guards. His search proved neither hard
nor of long duration, for they had remained on the look-out
in the vicinity of the Fair Rambler.

“Why, there you are again?’’ they cried to him in a
threatening tone of voice.

‘“‘Here I am again,’”’ he replied, trying the effect of his
most bewitching smile.

And with a running accompaniment of compliments to
the Russian authorities, he expressed his wish to be brought
to the presence of His Excellency the Governor of Alaska.
He offered to pay all the traveling expenses of the ‘‘honor-
able officer’’who would be kind enough to accompany him,
and even hinted at a handsome remuneration in hard cash
for the generous and noble-hearted man who would,—ete.

The proposal fell through. Even the perspective of the
handsome remuneration proved of no avail. It is probable
that the guards, as obstinate as custom-officers, and stub-
born as tax-gatherers, were beginning to look upon this per-
sistent desire to cross the Alaskan frontier. as extremely
suspicious. In truth, one of them cut matters short by
r ordering Cascabel to return to where he came from,
forthwith, and added:

“If we ever find you again on Russian territory, it is not
to Sitka we shall bring you, but to the nearest fort. And

88 CAESAR CASCABEL.

once you get in there, you never know how or when you
will get out.”’

Mr. Cascabel, not without being somewhat roughly
handled, was immediately conducted back to the Fair Ram-
bler, where his disappointed look told the tale of his failure.

Had the day really come when the home on wheels of the
Cascabels was about to be transformed into a sedentary
dwelling? Was the skiff, that carried the showman and his
fortune, to remain stranded on the Columbo-Alaskan fron-
tier like a boat that the outgoing tide leaves high and dry
on the rocks? To all appearance, there was but too much
fear of it.

How sad and gloomy the first day that was spent in these
conditions, how sad the days that wore their weary length
away, ere the wanderers could resolve on a new course!

Luckily, there was no lack of food; of the provisions that
they expected to renew at Sitka a sufficient stock still
remained. Besides, it was surprising to see the abundance
of game in the neighborhood. Only, John and Wagram
took good care not to venture out of the Columbian terri-
tory. It would have meant much more for the youth than
the confiscation of his gun and a fine to the benefit of the
Muscovite treasury.

Meanwhile, grief ‘‘clawed in its chilly clutch’”’ the hearts
of our friends. The very animals themselves seemed to feel
their share of sorrow. Jako jabbered less than usual. The
dogs indulged in dismal fits of howling. John Bull was for-
getting his antics and grimaces. Vermont and Gladiator
alone seemed to accept their situation without a murmur,
having nothing to do but graze the rich, fresh grass sup-
plied to them by the surrounding plain.

‘For all that, and all that, we must make up our minds
one way or the other!’’ Mr. Cascabel would often say,
folding his arms across his chest.

That was evident, but which way?—which way? This

CAN’T PASS THROUGH! 89

should not have puzzled Mr. Cascabel; for, in truth, he had
no choice in the matter. Seeing that he was forbidden
going on ahead, the only alternative was moving back and
giving up that trip westward that he had so courageously
undertaken. Return he should on that hated soil of British
Columbia, thence away through the prairies of the Far West,
and on to the coast of the Atlantic! Once in New York,
what would they do? Perhaps a subscription might be set
on foot by some charitable souls, to enable them to pay
their voyage home? How humiliating for these brave-
hearted folks, who had always lived by their labor and never
held out a begging hand, to come down so low as to be the
recipients of charity! What wretches they were who had
robbed them of their little all, in the passes of the Sierra!

“If they don’t get hanged in America, garroted in Spain,
guillotined in France, or impaled in Turkey,’’ Mr. Cascabel
used to say, ‘‘justice has fled this nether world.’’

And at length his mind was made up.

‘‘We shall be off to-morrow!’’ he said during the even-
ing of the 4th of June. ‘‘We shall go back to Sacramento,
and then—’’

He said no more, In Sacramento, they would see. As
to setting off, everything was ready. There was nothing to
do but putting the horses to the wagon and turning their
heads to the south.

This last evening on the frontier of Alaska was still
sadder than the rest. Each one sat in his corner, without
a word. Outside, darkness was intense. Heavy clouds
hovered to and fro through the sky like icebergs sent adrift
by the gale toward the east.

In vain would the eye seek a single star, and the crescent
of the new moon had just disappeared behind the lofty
mountains at the horizon.

It may have been nine o'clock when Mr. Cascabel gave
the order to go to bed. Next morning they should start

go CAESAR CASCABEL.

before daybreak. The Fair Rambler would resume the
track it had followed from Sacramento, and even without a
guide, it would not be a difficult matter to get along. Once
at the springs of the Fraser, the valley would bring them
straight on to the frontier of Washington Territory.

And accordingly Clovy was preparing to lock the door of
the outer compartment, after saying good-night to the two
dogs, when a sudden report was heard within a short distance.

‘That sounded uncommonly like'ashot!’’ exclaimed Mr.
Cascabel.

‘*Ves, it was a shot,’” answered John.

‘Some sportsman, no doubt!”’ said Cornelia.

‘‘A sportsman —this dark night ?’’ observed John.
‘*That’s hardly likely!’’

Just then, a second report broke the stillness of the night,
and cries were heard.

CHAP THR OX.
KAYETTE,

N hearing the cries, Mr. Cascabel, John, Sander, and
Clovy rushed out of the wagon.

“Tt is this way,’’ said John, pointing to the edge of the
forest which bordered the frontier line.

‘‘Let us listen again!’’ said Mr. Cascabel.

This was useless. No other cry was uttered, no other
detonation followed the first two that had been heard.

“‘Might it be an accident?’’ suggested Sander.

“In any case,’’ answered John, ‘‘one thing certain is,
that the cries we heard were cries of distress, and that, some-
where about here, there is somebody in danger.”’

“You must go and bring help!’’ said Cornelia.

“Yes, lads, come along,’’ answered Mr. Cascabel, ‘‘and
let us be well armed!’

¥

KAVETTE, gt

After all, it might not be an accident. A traveler might
have been the victim of a murderous assault on the Alaskan
frontier. Hence it was prudent that they should be pre-
pared to defend themselves as well as to defend others.

Almost without losing an instant, Mr. Cascabel and John,
each supplied witha gun, and Sander and Clovy, with a
revolver, left the /azr Rambler to the keeping of Cornelia
and the two dogs.

For five or six minutes they followed the edge of the
wood. Now and then they stopped to listen: no noise dis-
turbed the silence of the forest. They felt sure, none the
less, that the cries had come from this direction, and from
no great distance.

“Unless we were the dupes of an illusion?’ hinted Mr.
Cascabel.

*““No, father,’ replied John, ‘“‘that could not be!
Hark!—do you hear?’’

This time, there was indeed a call for help; it was not the
voice of a man, as in the first instance, but that of a woman
or a child. ;

The night was still very dark, and, under the canopy of
the trees, nothing could be discerned beyond a few yards.

Clovy had at first suggested taking one of the wagon
lamps with him; but Mr. Cascabel had objected to it on
the score of prudence, and, on the whole, it was better for
them not to be seen going along.

Besides, the cries were now getting very frequent, and suff-
ciently distinct to guide our relief party.

Indeed it seemed likely that there would be no necessity
fof going very deep into the woods.

Sure enough, five minutes later, Mr. Cascabel and his
three companions had come to a little clearing in the forest.
There, two men lay on the ground. A woman, kneeling
near one of them, held up his head between her arms.

This was the woman whose cries had last been heard,

g2 CAESAR CASCABEL.

and, in the Chinook dialect, of which Cascabel had a smat-
tering, she called out:

‘““Come!—Come!—They have killed them!”’

John drew near to the scared woman all besprinkled with
the blood flowing from the breast of the unfortunate man
that she endeavored to bring back to life.

‘‘This one breathes still!’’ said John.

‘*And the other?’’ inquired Mr. Cascabel.

“The other—I don’t know about him!’’ replied Sander.

Mr. Cascabel stooped to see if the throbbing of the heart
or the breathing through the lips betrayed the least remnant
of life in the man.

‘‘He is quite dead!"’ he said.

And it was but too true; a bullet had struck him in the
temple; his death must have been instantaneous.

And now, what was this woman, whose language pro-
claimed her Indian origin? Was she young or old? ‘This
could not be seen in the dark, under the hood drawn over
her head. But, it would be ascertained later on; she would
tell whence she came, as well as the circumstances under
which this two-fold murder had been committed. The
first thing to be done was to convey to the camp the man
who was still breathing and to give him such immediate
tending as might perchance save his life. As to his dead
companion, they would come and pay the last duties to him
on the following day.

With the aid of John, Mr. Cascabel raised the wounded

man by his shoulders, whilst Sander and Clovy took him up
by his feet. Then turning to the woman:

‘*Follow us,’’ said he to her. °

And the latter, without any hesitation, walked by the side
of the body, stanching with a kerchief the blood still flowing
from the wound.

Progress was slow. The man was heavy; and above all,
care should be taken to avoid jolting him, It was a living

““A WoMAN KNELT NEAR ONE OF THEM

ra ie
iE

¢
a

KAVETTE. 93

man Mr. Cascabel meant to bring to the Fair Rambler, not
a corpse.

_ At last, at the end of twenty minutes, the whole party
reached the wagon without any mishap.

Cornelia and little Napoleona, thinking they might have
been.attacked, were awaiting their return in deep anxiety.

“Quick, Cornelia!’’ cried Mr. Cascabel, ‘‘some water,
some linen, everything that is wanted to stop a hemorrhage
or else this unfortunate man will lose all consciousness.’’

“All right, all right,’’ replied Cornelia. ‘‘You know Iam
good at that, Cesar. Not so much talking, and leave him
to me!”’

She was good at it, was Cornelia; and many were the
wounds she had dressed, fn the course of her professional
career.

Clovy spread out, in the first compartment, a mattress on
which the body was laid, the head slightly raised with a
bolster. By the light of the lamp in the ceiling, they were
then able to see the man’s face, already blanched by ap-
proaching death, and likewise the features of the Indian
woman who was kneeling by his side.

She was a young girl; she did not seem over fifteen or
sixteen years of age.

“Who is this child?’’ asked Cornelia.

“It is she we heard calling for help,’’ replied John; ‘‘she
was near the wounded man.’’

The latter might be forty-five years old; his beard and
hair were turning gray; he was above the middle height,
of a sympathetic cast of features, and the firmness of his
character could be read even through his closed eyelids,
despite the deathly pallor of his face. From time to time,
a sigh broke through his lips, but not a word escaped him
that would denote his nationality.

When his chest was laid bare, Cornelia was able to see
that it had been transpierced by a poniard between the third

94 CAESAR CASCABEL.

and fourth ribs. Was the wound a fatal one? A surgeon
alone could have said so. What was beyond a doubt was
its severity.

However, as the attendance of a surgeon was ont of the
guestion under existing circumstances, they should remain

satisfied with such attentions as lay in Cornelia’s power and -

such drugs as were contained in their little traveling phar-
macy.

This was done, and the hemorrhage, from which death
would have quickly followed, was effectually stopped.
Later on they would see if, absolutely prostrated as he was,
this man might be conveyed to the nearest village or not.
And this time, Mr. Cascabel would not trouble to inquire
whether it was Anglo-Saxon or fot.

After carefully washing the lips of the wound with cold
water, Cornelia laid on it some strips of linen steeped in
arnica; and this dressing proved sufficient to stop the blood,
which the wounded man had lost in such quantity from the
time of the attempted murder to his arrival at the camp.

“‘And now, Cornelia,’’ inquired Mr. Cascabel, ‘‘what
can we do?”’

‘Well, we shall lay this poor man on our bed,”’ replied
Cornelia, ‘‘and I shall keep watch over him, to renew the
dressing when needs be.’’

‘‘We shall all watch him,’’ said John. “Could we go
asleep, do you think? Besides, we must keep on ‘the look-
out! ‘There are murderers about!’’

Mr. Cascabel, John, and Clovy took the man and laid
him on the bed in the inner room.

And while Cornelia stood by the bedside, spying a word
that was not spoken, the young Indian, whose dialect Mr.
Cascabel did his best to interpret, related her history.

She was, as had been surmised, a native, belonging to one
of the independent tribes of Alaska. In this province, to
the north and to the south of the big river Yukon which

*
Ge

KAVETTE. 95

waters it from east to west, you come across numerous
tribes, some wandering, others sedentary, and, among them,
the Co-Yukons, the chief and the most cruel perhaps, then
‘the Newicarguts, the Tanands, the Kotch-a-Koutchins,
and also, more especially near the mouth of the river, the
Pastoliks, the Kaveaks, the Primosks, the Malemutes, and
the Ingeletes.

It was to this last tribe that the young Indian woman
belonged, and her name was Kayette.

Kayette had lost her father and her mother, and had not
one relative left. Nor do families alone thus utterly disap-
pear among the natives; whole tribes do so, no trace of
which is to be found afterwards in the territory of Alaska.

Such the Midland tribe, which formerly occupied the
north of the Yukon.

Kayette, thus left an orphan, had started off toward the
south, through those countries of which she had a certain
knowledge thanks to her previously visiting them with the
wandering Indians. Her intention was to go to Sitka,
where she hoped to be engaged as a servant by some Rus-
sian official, And surely she ought to have been engaged
on the mere recommendation of her gentle, pleasing, honest
countenance. She was very handsome, with the least tinge
of red in her complexion, dark eyes with long lashes, and a
luxuriance of dark hair held up in the hood of fur that
she wore over her head.

Of middle height, she seemed graceful and light in spite
of her heavy cloak.

Among these Indian races of North America, as is known,
the bright and merry-tempered children, grow up quickly.
At ten years of age, the boys can use the gun and the
hatchet skillfully. At fifteen, young girls marry, and, even
at that age, prove devoted mothers. And so Kayette was
more sober, stronger-willed likewise, than her age would
imply; and the long journey she had just undertaken was

96 C4SAR CASCABEL.

very evident proof of her strength of character. For a
month already she had been on the tramp toward the south-
west of Alaska; and she had reached the narrow strip of
land, close to the island in which the capital is situated,
_ when, journeying along the edge of the forest, she had heard
two reports of fire-arms, followed by cries of despair, at a
distance of a few hundred paces.

These were the cries that had reached the ears of the
occupants of the Fair Rambler.

Instantly Kayette had courageously plunged into the
wood.

And no doubt her approach must have given the alarm,
for she barely had time to get a glimpse of two men running
away through the thicket. But evidently the wretches
would have noticed very soon that they had been scared by
a child; and, as a matter of fact, they were already return-
ing to the clearing to rob their victims, when the coming of
Mr. Cascabel and his party had frightened them—and, this
time, frightened them right away.

In the presence of these two men lying on the ground,
one a corpse, the other still breathing, young Kayette had
called for help, and the reader knows what had taken place
subsequently. The first cries heard by Mr. Cascabel were
those of the assaulted travelers, the second had been uttered
by the young Indian woman.

The night passed by. Our friends had no occasion to
repel an attack on the part of the murderers; they, doubt-
less, had hastened to leave the scene of their crime.

Next morning, Cornelia could report no change in the
state of the wounged man, no cause for less anxiety.

It was now that Kayette proved of great utility by going
and gathering certain herbs of which she knew the antisep-
tic properties. She made an infusion of these, and, steeped

in this liquid, the dressing: did not allow one drop of blood
to ooze through.

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THE BURIAL IN THE ForEST.—Page 98.

KAVETTE. 97

In the course of the morning, it was noticed that the
wounded man was commencing to breathe more freely; but,
as yet, they were only sighs—not even broken words—that
escaped his hips. And so, it was impossible to learn who he
was, whence he came, where he was going, what his business
was on the Alaskan frontier, under what circumstances his
companion and he were attacked, and who their aggressors
were.

In any case.if money had been the motive of their crime,
the scoundrels, in their hurried flight on the approach of
the young Indian, had missed a fortune the like of which
they would hardly ever find again in these solitary parts.

For,. Mr. Cascabel having undressed the wounded man,
had found, in a leather belt closely fitted around his waist,
a quantity of gold coins of American and of Russian cur-
rency. The whole amounted to about fifteen thousand
francs. This sum was carefully put aside, to be restored to
its owner as soon as possible.

As to papers, there were none, save a pocket-book with a
few notes, some scribbled in Russian, some in French,
Nothing there.was, that would help to ascertain the identity
of the stranger.

That morning, about nine o’clock, John said:

‘Father, we have a last duty to perform toward that
unburied corpse.”’

‘You are right, John, come on. Maybe we shall find on
him some writing that may help us. You, Clovy, you had
better come, too. Bring a pick and a shovel with you.”’

Supplied with these tools, and careful to take their fire-
arms with them, the three men left the wagon, and made
their way along that same edge of the wood that they had
followed the previous night.

In a few minutes’ time, they had reached the spot where
the murder had been committed.

What seemed to permit of little doubt was that the two

98 CESAR CASCABEL.

wayfarers had encamped there for the night. There were
still the signs of a halt, the remnants of a fire, the ashes of
which were still alive. At the foot of a huge fir-tree a quan-
tity of grass had been heaped up, so that the two travelers
might have a soft bed to lie on, and indeed they may have
been asleep when they were attacked.

As to the dead man, the v7gor mortis had already set in.

To judge by his dress, his features, his hard hands, it was
easy to see that this man—he might have been thirty at
most—was the other's servant.

John searched his pockets. He found no paper. No
money was there either. From his belt hung a revolver, of
American make, that the poor fellow had not had time to
use.

Evidently the attack had been sudden and unforeseen,
and the two victims had fallen at the same time.

At this hour, round about the neighborhood of the clear-
ing, the forest was undisturbed by a living soul. After a
short exploration, John returned without seeing anybody.
It was plain the murderers had not come back, for they
surely would have taken the garments of their victim, or at
the very least the revolver still hanging on his belt.

Meanwhile, Clovy had dug a grave deep enough to pre-
vent the wild animals clawing out the corpse. The dead
man was lowered into it, and John said a few words
of a prayer when the clay had been shoveled back over
him.

Whereupon Mr. Cascabel, his son, and Clovy returned to
the camp, There, while Kayette remained by the wounded
man, John, his father, and his mother held a consultation
among themselves.

‘*It is certain,’’ began Mr. Cascabel, ‘‘that if we turn our
steps toward California, our man will never get there alive.
We have hundreds upon hundreds of miles to get over.
The best thing would be to make a shot for Sitka, if those

——

KAVETTE. 99

hangable police-folk did not forbid us to set our foot on
their territory!’’

“And do what they like, to Sitka it is that we must
go,’’ answered Cornelia resolutely, ‘‘and to Sitka we
will go!’’

‘And how can we? We wont have gone a mile of ground
before we are arrested.”’

“‘No matter, Cesar! Go we must, and with a bold face!
If we meet the guards, we shall tell them what has hap-
pened, and surely they could not refuse to this unfortunate
man what they did refuse us!”’

Mr. Cascab~] shook his head with an air of doubt.

‘““Mother is right,’’ said John. ‘‘Let us endeavor to
push on to Sitka, even without seeking at the hands of the
officials a permit that they will not give us. It would bea
loss of time. Besides, it is just possible that they think we
are on the way to Sacramento and that they have gone
about their business. For the last twenty-four hours we
have not seen one of them.”’

“That is right,’’ answered Mr. Cascabel, ‘‘I should not
be surprised if they were gone.’’

“Unless—’’ remarked Clovy, who had just joined the
discussion.

“Yes—unless—We know the rest!’’ replied Mr. Cas-
cabel.

John’s remark was quite correct, and there was perhaps
nothing better to do than take the road to Sitka.

A quarter of an hour after, Vermont and Gladiator were
in harness. ;

After their good rest during this prolonged halt at the
frontier, they could measure a fair extent of ground for
their first day's work. The Fair Rambler started, and
it was with undisguised pleasure that Mr. Cascabel left
Columbian territory.

‘*Children,’’ said he, ‘‘let us keep our eye open, and let it

100 CAESAR CASCABEL.

be our weather eye. As to you, John, silence your gun!
It is quite needless to proclaim our passage.”’

‘As to that, the kitchen has no chance of running short!”
added Mrs. Cascabel.

The country north of Columbia, though rather uneven,
is easy for a vehicle, even when you follow the numerous
channels which separate the archipelagos on the edge of the
continent, No mountains in view, to the furthest limits of
the horizon. Now and then, but very seldom, a solitary
farm, to which our party carefully refrained from paying a
visit. Having studied the map of the country thoroughly,
John found out his way easily, and he was in hopes of
reaching Sitka without needing the services of a guide.

What was of the utmost importance was to avoid a meet-
ing with any officials whether frontier guards or mland
police. Now, along tice first stages of the journey, the Fair
Rambler seemed to be left entirely free to ramble away as
it chose. This was a remarkable thing. And Mr. Casca-
bel’s surprise was only equaled by his satisfaction.

Cornelia put down the gratifying fact to the credit of
Providence, and her husband was inclined to do the same.
As to John, he was under the impression that some circum-
stance or other must have altered the proceedings of the
Muscovite administration.

Things went on in this way throughout the length of the
6th and of the 7th of June. They were drawing near to
Sitka. The Farr Rambler might have made greater speed
perhaps, but Cornelia dreaded the jolting for her invalid,
whom Kayette and herself continued to tend, one as a
mother, the other as a daughter. If, on the one hand, he
had not grown worse, it could not be said either that he was
much better. The scanty resources of the little pharmacy,
the trifle that the two women were able to do for so serious
a case and when the aid of a medical man would have been
a necessity, all that could hardly be sufficient. Tender care

>

t
mel nthe Nees

Ding Ft se Boe Ae

SISTERS OF CHARITY.—/Page 100.

KAVEL TE: IOI

could not prove a substitute for science,—and alas that it
should be so! for never did sisters of charity display greater
self-denial. Indeed, the young Indian’s zeal and intelli-
gence had been appreciated by all. She looked as though
she were already a member of the family. She was, ina
sort of way, a second daughter that heaven had sent to Mrs.
Cascabel.

On the 7th, in the afternoon, the Fazr Rambler forded
across Stekine River, a little stream which flows into one of
the narrow passes between the mainland and the Isle of
Baranoff, a few leagues only from Sitka.

In the evening, the wounded man was able to utter a few
words:

‘‘My father—yonder—see him again!’" he murmured.

These words were said in Russian; Mr. Cascabel had
understood them clearly.

There was likewise a name that was repeated several
times: ‘‘Ivan—Ivan—’’

No doubt this was the name of the luckless servant who
had been murdered by the side of his master. It was very
probable that both of them were of Russian origin.

However that might be, as the wounded man was now
recovering both his power of speech and his memory, it
would not be long ere the Cascabels knew his history.

On that day, the Fair Rambler had gone as far as the
banks of the narrow channel that must be crossed to reach
the Isle of Baranoff. And accordingly it became a neces-
sity to have recourse to the boatmen who ply ferries across
these numerous straits. Now, Mr. Cascabel could never
hope of opening negotiations with the natives of the coun-
try without betraying his nationality. It was to be feared
that the awkward question of passports should crop up
once more.

‘‘Well,’’ said he, ‘‘in any case our Russian will have come
to Sitka, If the police send ws back to the frontier, they

102 CAESAR CASCABEL.

surely will keep their own countryman, and since we began
his recovery, it will Be the devil if they can’t manage to set
him right on his feet.’

All this sounded very reasonable; still our travelers were
anything but free from anxiety concerning the welcome
that was awaiting them. It would be such a cruel blow,
now they were in Sitka, to have to turn round and face the
road to New York.

Meanwhile, whilst the wagon stood waiting on the bank
of the canal, John had gone to make the necessary inquiries
about the ferry and the boatmen.

Just then, Kayette came and told Mr. Cascabel that his
wife wanted him, and he hastened toward her.

“Our invalid has quite recovered consciousness,’’ said
Cornelia. ‘‘He talks, Cesar, and you must try and under-
stand what he says!”’

As a matter of fact, the Russian had opened his eyes and
surveyed with an inquiring look the people he saw for the
first time about him. Now and then, incoherent words fell
from his lips.

And then, in a tone of voice so weak as to be scarcely
audible, he called his servant Ivan.

‘Sir,’ said Cascabel, ‘‘your servant-man is not here, but
we are—'’’

At these words, spoken in French, the wounded man
replied in the same language:

**Where am I?’’

‘With people who have taken care of you, sir.”

‘*But in what country?”’

‘‘In a country where you have nothing to fear, if you
are a Russian.’”’

‘*A Russian—yes—a Russian!”’

‘“‘Well, you are in the province of Alaska, within a short
distance of the capital.’’

‘“‘Alaska!’’ murmured the stranger,

a *
Fleas)
,

ae

4 SITKA. 103

And you would have fancied that a feeling of terror had
overclouded his features.

“‘The Russian possessions!'’ he repeated.

“No! An American possession now!” cried John as he
entered the room.

And, through the little open window of the Facr Rambler,
he showed the American stars and stripes waving from the
flag-post on the coast.

Sure enough, the province of Alaska had ceased to be
Russian three days before.

Three days previous, the treaty by which it was ceded to
the United States had been signed. Henceforth the Cas-
cabels had nothing more to apprehend at the hands of Rus-
sian officials. They were on American ground!

CHAPTER XI.
SITKA.

ITKA, or New Archangel, situated on Baranoff Island,
in the middle of the archipelagos of the western coast,
is not only the capital of the island, it is likewise the capital
of the whole province which had just been ceded to the
Federal government. ‘There was no city of greater import-
ance in this region, where the traveler finds but few towns,
mere villages indeed, scantily sprinkled at long intervals.
It would be even more accurate to designate these villages
as settlements or trading stations. . For the most part they
belong to American companies; afew are the property of
the English Hudson Bay Company. It is then easily
understood that the means of communication between these
stations are very difficult, especially during the bad season,
in the midst of all the hardships of the Alaskan winter.
A few years ago, Sitka was still but an unfrequented com-

104 CAESAR CASCABEL. ,

mercial center, where the Russo-American Company kept
its stores of furs and hides.

But thanks to the discoveries made in that province,
which is contiguous to the polar regions, Sitka very soon
underwent a considerable development; and, under its new
administration, it will become an opulent city, worthy of
this new State of the Confederacy.

At this time already, Sitka possessed all those edifices
which constitute what is called a ‘‘town,’’ a Lutheran
church, a very simple edifice whose architectural style does
not lack grandeur; a Greek church with one of those cupo-
las that are so little in harmony with a fog-laden sky, so
different from the Eastern skies; a club, the Club Gardens,
a sort of Parisian Tivoli where the habitual visitor and the
traveler find restaurants, cafés, bars, and amusements of all
kinds; a club-house, the doors of which are open to single
men only; a school, a hospital, with fine houses, villas, and
cottages picturesquely grouped on the surrounding hillocks.
This landscape is horizoned by a vast forest of resinous
trees which encase it in their eternal verdure, and beyond,
a ridge of lofty mountains, the summits of which are lost in
the clouds, and, lording it over all of them, Mt. Edgecumb,
the giant of Crooze Island, to the north of Baranoff Island,
the peak of which rises to a height of eight thousand feet
above the level of the sea.

On the whole, if the climate of Sitka is not very severe, if
the thermometer hardly ever goes below seven or eight
degrees centigrade—although the town be crossed by the
fifty-sixth parallet—it would deserve to be called the ‘‘water-
ing town” par excellence. In truth, on Baranoff Island, it
always rains, you may say, unless it snows. Let it surprise
no one, therefore, if after crossing the canal in a ferry with
all its household and belongings, the Faz Rambler entered
Sitka under a torrent of rain. And still Mr. Cascabel had

no thought of complaining, since he had reached the town

, SITEKA. 105

at the very time of a transaction which enabled him to enter
it without a passport. ‘‘Manya bit of good luck I have
had in my day, but never such luck as this!’’ he went on
repeating. ‘‘We were just at the gate, unable to get in, and
slambang goes the door, of itself, just in time, before us!’’

The treaty of the cession of Alaska had been signed
opportunely, indeed, to enable the “air Rambler to cross
the frontier. And on this soil, now American, none of
those unmanageable officials, none of those formalities in
regard to which the Russian administration shows such
severity.

And now it would have been the simplest thing on earth
to bring our Russian either to the Sitka hospital where all
due care would have been bestowed upon him, or to a hotel
where he might have the attendance of a doctor. Still,
when Mr. Cascabel proposed the matter to him:

“I feel better, my friend,’’ he replied, ‘‘and if I am not
in your way—”’

“In our way, sir!’’ exclaimed Cornelia. ‘‘And what do
you mean by being in our way?’’

‘‘You are at home here,’’ added Mr. Cascabel, ‘‘and if
you think—’’

‘Well, I think it is best for me not to leave those who
have picked me up—who have devoted themselves—’’

‘All right, sir, all right!’’ answered Cascabel. ‘‘Still
you must lose no time in seeing a medical man.”

‘‘Might I not see him here?”’

‘“‘By all means, and I am off, myself, to fetch you the
best in the town.”’

The Fair Rambler had stopped at the entrance into the
town, at one end of an avenue planted with trees which
stretches on to the forest. There Doctor Harry, who had
been named to Mr. Cascabel, came and visited the Russian.

After a careful examination of the wound the doctor
declared it was in no way dangerous, the poniard having

106 CAESAR CASCABEL.

glanced off on arib. No important organ had been touched,
and thanks to the cold-water dressing, thanks to the juice
of the herbs gathered by the young Indian, the healing
process, already commenced, would soon be sufficiently
advanced to allow the patient to get up in a few days. He
was therefore progressing as favorably as possible, and he
might, from now, begin to take some food. But most assur-
edly, had not Kayette tended him, had not the hemorrhage
been stopped by Mrs. Cascabel, he would have been a dead
man a few hours after the attack of which he had been the
victim. .

Dr. Harry then added that, in his opinion, the murder
must have been the deed of some members of Karnof’s
gang, if not that of Karnof himself, whose presence had
been reported in the eastern part of the province. This
Karnof was a criminal, of Russian or rather Siberian origin,
who had under his orders a gang of those deserters from the
Czar’s army, so numerous in the Russian possessions of
Asia and America. In vain had the police sent its best
‘“‘ferrets’’ after him. In vain had rewards been offered for
the capture of the band. ‘These ruffians, as dreaded as they
deserved to be, had hitherto escaped punishment. And
still, frequent crimes, thefts, and murders had spread terror
around, especially in the southern portion of the territory.
The safety of the travelers, the traders, the agents of fur
companies, was in continual jeopardy; and undoubtedly this
new crime should be attributed to Karnof’s gang.

On withdrawing, Dr. Harry left the family quite free
from anxiety concerning their guest.

Whilst on his way to Sitka, Mr. Cascabel had always
intended taking a few days’ rest there, a rest his troupe was
well entitled to, after a journey of almost, two thousand one
hundred miles since the time of leaving the Sierra Nevada.
Besides he expected to increase his exchequer by two or
three good performances in this town,

SITKA. 107

““Lads, we are no longer in England here,’’ he would
say, ‘‘we are in America, and before Americans we are
quite at liberty to work!”’

Mr. Cascabel felt sure, moreover, that the name of his
family wasa household word among the Alaskan population,
and that the cry was going round Sitka:

‘““The Cascabels are within our walls!"’

However, after a conversation which took’place a couple
of days after between the Russian and his host, these plans
were slightly modified, except in so far as they concerned
the few days’ rest, an absolute necessity after the hardships
of the journey. This Russian—in Cornelia’s mind he could
be no other than a prince—now knew what the good people
were who had saved him, poor itinerant artists traveling
through America. All the members of the family had been
presented to him, including the young Indian to whom he
was indebted for his being now alive.

One evening, as they were all sitting round together, he
told them his history, or at least such portion of it as inter-
ested them. He spoke French very fluently, as if that lan-
guage had been his own, with the only peculiarity that he
rolled his 7’s a little, which gives to the Muscovite tongue
an inflexion at the same time soft and manly in which the
ear finds a great charm.

Besides, what he related was extremely simple. Nothing
very adventurous, nothing romantic either.

His name was Sergius Wassiliowitch—and from that day,
with his permission, he went by no other name than ‘'Mr.
Sergius’? among the Cascabels. Of all his relatives, his
father alone was still alive, and resided on a domain situ-
ated in the Government of Perm, within a short distance of
the town of that name. Mr. Sergius, actuated by his tray-
eling instincts, and his taste for geographical discoveries
and researches, had left Russia three years before. He had
visited the Hudson Bay territories and was preparing an

+

108 CAESAR CASCABEL.

exploring tour through Alaska, from the course of the
Yukon to the Arctic Sea, when he was attacked under the
following circumstances:

His servant Ivan and he had just settled their little
encampment on the frontier, on the evening of the 4th of
June, when they were suddenly fallen upon, during their
first sleep. Two men were upon them. They awoke,
stood up, and mteant to defend themselves. It was useless:
almost instantly poor Ivan fell dead, struck by a bullet
through his head.

‘‘He was a brave fellow, a faithful servant!’’ said Mr.
Sergius. ‘‘We had lived together for ten years! He would
have done anything for me; I mourn him not as a servant,
but a friend!”’

And so saying, Mr. Sergius made no effort to conceal his
emotion, and every time he spoke of Ivan, his tearful eye
showed how sincere was his grief for his loss.

Then he added that, being stabbed in the, chest himself,
he had lost consciousness, and no longer remembered any-
thing, until, coming back to life but unable to express his
gratitude, he had understood that he was with kind-hearted
people who were nursing him.

When Mr. Cascabel told him that the deed was attributed
to Karnof or tosome of hisaccomplices, Mr, Sergius did not
feel surprised, for he had been informed that the gang was
haunting the frontier.

“You see,’’ said he, in the end, ‘‘my history is not very
entertaining, yours must be more so.. My campaign was to
end with the exploration of Alaska. Thence, I was to
return to Russia, go home to my father, and leave him no
more. Now let us talk about you; and first, let me ask
how and why French people, like you, find themselves so
far away from home in this part of America?”’

“Do not showmen ramble the wide world over, Mr.
Sergius?’’ Cascabel replied,

j

THE STARS

AND STRIPES OVER SITKA ForT.—Page 103.

ioe ad

SITKA, 109

‘Quite so, but none the less I may feel somewhat sur-

prised to see you at such a distance from France,”’

“*John,”’ said Mr. Cascabel, turning to his eldest son,
“tell Mr. Sergius how it is that we are here, and by what
route we are returning to Europe.’’

John related everything that had happened the occupants
of the Hair Rambler since they had left Sacramento, and, so
as to be understood by Kayette, he told his tale in English,
Mr. Sergius giving supplementary explanations in the Chi-
nook dialect. The young Indian woman listened with the
greatest attention. In this way she learnt what was this
Cascabel family to which she had become so fondly attached.
She heard how the show people had been robbed of all they
possessed as they were crossing the pass of the Sierra Nevada
on their way to the coast of the Atlantic, and how, for want
of money, compelled to alter their plans, they had attempted
by a westward road what they were unable to do by the
east. After having faced their house on wheels toward the
setting sun, they had traversed the State of California, Ore-
gon, Washington Territory, Columbia, and had stopped on
the frontier of Alaska. There they had found it impossible
to move farther, thanks to the strict orders of the Muscovite
administration—a fortunate drawback, after all, since it had
given them an opportunity to come to Mr. Sergius’s
help. And that was how a troupe of artists, French by
birth, and Norman by their leader, were now in Sitka,
the annexation of Alaska to the United States having
opened wide, for them, the gates of the new American pos-
session,

Mr. Sergius had listened to the young man’s story with
the keenest interest, and when he heard that Mr. Cascabel
intended reaching Europe through Siberia, a little move-
ment of surprise escaped him which, indeed, no one could’
have understood at the time.

‘And so, my friends,’’ said he, when John had finished,

110 CESAR CASCABEL.

‘*your intention, on leaving Sitka, is to make for Behring
Strait?’’

“It is, Mr. Sergius,’’ replied John, ‘fand to ride over the
strait when it will be frozen.”’

‘The journey you undertake there is a long and laborious
one, Mr. Cascabel.’’

“A long one, it is, Mr. Sergius! A laborious one, it shall
be, no doubt. But what ‘can be done? We have no choice
in the matter. Besides, itinerant artists trouble themselves
but little about the labor, and we have got accustomed to
roving.’’

‘“‘T suppose that, under these conditions, you have no
expectation of reaching Russia this year?’’

‘‘No,”’ said John, ‘‘for the strait will not be frozen over
before the beginning of October.’’

‘‘In any case,’’ repeated Mr. Sergius, ‘‘it isa bold and
venturous scheme.”’

“That may be,’’ replied Mr. Cascabel, ‘‘but there is no
other way out of the difficulty. Mr. Sergius, we are home-
sick! We long to go back to France, and go home we
must! And since we shall be going through Perm and
Nijni at the time of the fairs,—well, the Cascabel family
will do its best not to disgrace itself.’’

‘Very well, but what are your resources?’’

‘*A little money we made, coming along, and the takings
of two or three performances that I propose to give in Sitka.
As it happens, there are public rejoicings over the annexa-
tion, and I imagine the Sitkans will take an interest in the
exercises of the Cascabel family.’”’

‘*My friends,’’ said Mr. Sergius, ‘‘how pleased I should
have been to share my purse with you, if I had not been
robbed.”’

‘‘Why, you have not been robbed, Mr. Sergius,’’ ex-
claimed Cornelia.

‘*Not to the extent of half a rouble!’’ added Cascabel,

‘
a]

SITKA. 111

And he brought the belt in which Mr. Sergius’s money
had remained untouched.

“Then, my friends, you will be good enough to accept—"’

*“No such thing, Mr. Sergius!’’ answered Mr. Cascabel.
“T’ll not have you run the risk of getting into difficulties
by trying to get us out of our own.”’

“You decline to share with me?’’

“Most positively !’’

“Well, well, those French people!’’ said Mr. Sergius,
stretching his hand to him.

‘Long live Russia!’’ cried out young Sander.

“‘And long live France!’’ responded Mr. Sergius.

It was the first time, no doubt, that those cries were inter-
changed in those distant lands of America!

““And now, that’s enough talking for once, Mr. Ser-
gius,’’ said Cornelia. ‘‘The doctor has recommended that
you should keep very quiet, and patients must always obey

. their medical advisers.”’

“Your obedient servant then, Madame Cascabel,’’ replied
Mr. Sergius. ‘‘Still, I have one more question to ask you,
or rather a request to make.’’

“At your service, sir.’’

“Indeed it is a favor I am expecting at your hands.”’

“SA favor?’’

“Since you are bent on going to Behring Strait, will you
permit me to accompany you thus far?’’

“Accompany us?”’

“Yes! this will complete my exploration of Alaska in the
Wiest

“‘And our answer to that request is: With the greatest
pleasure, Mr. Sergits!’’ exclaimed Cascabel.

“On one condition,’’ added Cornelia.

“What condition ?’’

“‘That you will do everything that will be necessary to
your recovery,—without a single word.”’

112 CESAR CASCABEL.

‘‘And on condition, too, that as I am your fellow-traveler
I shall contribute toward the expenses of the journey?”’

‘‘That’s as you like, Mr. Sergius!’’ answered Cascabel.

Everything was now settled to the satisfaction of all par-
ties. However, the ‘‘manager’’ of the troupe did not think
he should give up his idea of having two or three perform-
ances on the principal square in Sitka—performances from
which he was to derive both glory and profit. Fétes were
held throughout the province anent the annexation, and the
Fair Rambler could not have appeared on the scene ata
more opportune moment.

Of course Mr. Cascabel had communicated to the authori-
ties the murderous attack of which his guest had been the
victim, and orders had been issued for a more active chase
after Karnof's band along the Alaskan frontier.

On the 17th of June, Mr. Sergius was able to go into the
open air for the first time. He felt much better, and his
wound was quite healed, thanks to Dr. Harry’s attentions.

It was then he made acquaintance’ with the animal por-
tion of the troupe: the two dogs came and rubbed against
his legs, Jako greeted him with a ‘“‘You’re better, Mr. Ser-
gius?’’ that Sander had taught him, and John Bull pre-
sented him with his choicest grimaces. The two good old
horses themselves, Vermont and Gladiator, joyfully neighed
their thanks to him for the lumps of sugar he gave them.
Mr. Sergius was now a member of the family, just as Kay-
ette was. He had already noticed that serious turn of mind,
that love of study, that yearning upwards which character-
ized the eldest son. Sander and Napoleona charmed him
with their graceful playfulness. Clovy amused him with his
harmless nonsense. As to Mr. and Mrs. Cascabel, he had,
long since, appreciated their domestic virtues.

Truly noble-hearted people were those among whom he
had fallen.

However, they were actively pushing on the preparations

r' * ate .

MAKING NEW ACQUAINTANCES,— Page 112.

.

SVT KA. 113

for their forthcoming departure. Nothing was to be omitted
that could insure the success of those fifteen hundred miles
of a journey from Sitka to Behring Strait. This almost
unknown country did not threaten them with any great dan-
gers, It is true, either on the part of wild beasts, or at the
hands of the Indians, whether wandering or sedentary ; and
nothing would be easier than to halt at the trading stations
occupied by the agents of fur companies. What was of
importance, was to minister to the daily necessities of life
in a country whose resources, with the exception of the
game, were likely to be null.

It followed, therefore, that all these questions had to be
discussed with Mr. Sergius.

“First of all,’’ said Cascabel, ‘‘we must take this into
consideration, that we shall not have to travel during the
bad season.,’’

‘*That is fortunate,’’ answered Mr. Sergius, ‘‘for they are
indeed cruel, those Alaskan winters on the verge of the polar
eimcle.n

‘*And then, we shall not grope along like blind people,’
added John. ‘Mr. Sergius must be a learned geographer.’

‘*Oh,” replied Mr. Sergius, ‘‘in a country that he is not
acquainted with, a geographer is often puzzled to find out
his road. But, with his maps, my friend John has been
able to make his way hitherto, and if we put our two heads
together I am in hopes we shall get on all right. Besides,
I have an idea, which I shall tell you about one day.”’

If Mr. Sergius had an idea, it could not fail being an
excellent one, and so they .allowed him all the time neces-
sary to ripen it before carrying it into execution.

There being no lack of money, Mr. Cascabel renewed his
stock of flour, grease, rice, tobacco, and especially tea, a very
large consumption of which is made throughout Alaska; he
likewise took in hams, corned beef, biscuits, and a cer-
tain quantity of preserved ptarmigan from the Russo-Ameri-

114 CESAR CASCABEL.

can Company’s store. They would not run short of water
along the affluents of the Yukon, but the water could not
but be improved by the addition of a little sugar and cog-
nac, or rather ‘‘vodka,’’ a sort of brandy highly appreciated
by the Russians; and accordingly a purchase was made of
sufficient quantities of sugar and vodka. As to the fuel, al-
though the forests might be depended upon, the Fazr Ram-
bler stowed in a ton of good Vancouver coal, a ton and no
more, for the wagon should not be loaded to excess.

In the meantime, an additional bunk had been fitted into
the second compartment, which Mr. Sergius declared quite
sufficient for him, and which was comfortably supplied with
bedding. Blankets were not forgotten, nor yet those hare-
skins so generally used by the Indians during winter.
Finally, in the event of their having to make any purchases
along the road, Mr. Sergius supphed himself with those
glass trinkets, strips of cotton stuff, cheap knives and scis-
sors, that constitute the usual currency between traders and
natives.

As game might be relied upon, both large and small, since
the deer and the hares, heathcocks, geese, and partridges
abound in those parts, a proportionate stock of powder and
shot was bought. Mr. Sergius even succeeded in finding two
guns and a carbine, which completed the arsenal of the Fair

Sone

Rambler. He was a good shot, and would delight in going

out in search of game with his friend John.

It was not to be forgotten, either, that Karnof’s gang
might be roaming about Sitka perhaps, that they should be
on the watch for a possible attack on their part, and, should
the opportunity present itself, receive them as they deserved.

‘“Now,’’ remarked Mr. Cascabel, ‘‘to the requests of
such intruders I know of no better answer than a bullet,
fair in the chest."’ .

‘Unless it be one fair in the head!’’ added Clovy, not
unreasonably,

SITKA. 115

In a word, thanks to the trade carried on by the capital
of Alaska with the various towns in Columbia and the ports
of the Pacific, Mr. Sergius and his companions were able to
purchase, without paying exorbitant prices, all that they
thought necessary for their long journey through a desert
country.

These arrangements were not completed before the last
week but one in June, and it was decided they should start
on the 26th. As they could not dream of crossing Behring
Strait before it was completely frozen, they had ample time
before them. Still, possible delays, unforeseen obstacles,
were to be taken into account, and it would be better to
arrive too soon than too late. At Port Clarence, on the
very coast of the strait, they should rest and await the right
moment for crossing over to the Asiatic shore.

Meanwhile, what was the young Indian girl doing?
Nothing but what was very simple. She aided Mrs. Casca-
bel, with a deal of intelligence, in all the preparations for
the journey. The good woman loved her with a mother’s
love: she loved her as she did Napoleona, and every day
she grew more and more attached to her second daughter.
Every one, indeed, was really fond of Kayette, and, no
doubt, the poor girl enjoyed a happiness she had never
tasted among the nomadic tribes, under the tents of the
Indians. Sad did each one feel at the thought that the time
was drawing near when Kayette would part with the family.
But, alone as she now was in the world, should she not
remain in Sitka, since she had left her people for the very
purpose of coming here and entering service, even though
under wretched conditions perhaps?

“Still and all,’’ Mr. Cascabel would sometimes Say, “‘if
that pretty Kayette—vvy little Kayette, I was going to say—
had a taste for dancing, who knows but we might make her
an offer? What a handsome dancer she would make,
eh? And what a graceful rider, if she cared to make her

116 CESAR CASCABEL.

début in a circus! I bet you, she would ride like a
centaur!”’

It was one of Mr. Cascabel’s articles of faith that the
centaurs were excellent riders, and it would have been dan-
gerous to cross words with him on this subject.

Seeing how John shook his head, when his father spoke
thus, Mr. Sergius understood plainly that the steady,
reserved lad was far from sharing the paternal view of acro-
batic performances or of the other practices of an itinerant
artist’s life.

In short, a great deal of thinking was bestowed on Kay-
ette, on what would become of her, on the life that was
awaiting her at Sitka,—and that thinking was not of the
pleasantest kind,—when, the day before the departure, Mr.
Sergius took her by the hand and presented her to the
whole assembled family, saying:

‘*My friends, I had no daughter; now I have one, an
adopted daughter! Kayette agrees to look upon me as her
father, and I ask you for a little room for her in the Fair
Rambler !”’ .

Cries of joy greeted Mr. Sergius, and the fondest of
caresses were lavished on ‘“‘little Kayette.’’ The happiness
with which she, on her side, had accepted the proposal, is
not to be told. ,

“You are a good heart, Mr. Sergius!’’ cried out Casca-
bel, not without emotion.

“Why so, my friend? Have you forgotten what Kayette
has done for me? Is it not natural she should become my
child, when I owe my life to her?’’

‘Well then, let us have a share!’’ said Cascabel. ‘‘Since
you are her father, Mr. Sergius, I want to be her uncle!”’

FERRYING ACROSS THE ALASKAN INLETS.—Fage 118.

FROM SITKA TO FORT VY UKON, 117

CHAPTER: XII.
FROM SITKA TO FORT YUKON.

N the 26th of June, at daybreak, the ‘‘Cascabel chariot
raised anchor,” to use one of the favorite metaphors of
the captain. It remained to be seen,—in order to complete
the metaphor with the immortal Prudhomme’s figure of
speech,—if the skiff was not going to cruise on a volcano.
There was nothing impossible in that—figuratively, first, for
the difficulties of the journey would not be trifling,—physi-
cally, moreover, for there is no lack of volcanoes, extinct

or otherwise, on the northern coast of Behring Sea.

The Fair Rambler, then, left the Alaskan capital, in the
midst of the many and noisy good wishes for a safe journey
that accompanied its departure. They came from the
numerous friends whose applause and roubles the Cascabels
had received during the few days they had spent at the
gates of Sitka.

The word “‘gates’’ is more accurate than might be thought.
For the town is surrounded with a palisade of stout build
and with very few openings, which it would be hard to get
over by force.

The reason of it is that the Russian authorities had had
occasion to protect themselves against the influx of Kalosch
Indians, who usually come and squat between the Stekine
and the Chilcat rivers in the vicinity of New Archangel.
There stand scattered their very primitive-looking huts; a
low door opens into acircular room, sometimes divided into
two compartments; and one hole, made overhead, allows the
light to come in and the smoke of the fire to go out. The
aggregation of these huts constitutes a suburb, a suburb
extra muros, to the town of Sitka. After sunset, no Indian
may remain in the town; a restriction not without a just
motive, one necessitated, indeed, by the frequently unpleas-
ant relations existing between the redskins and the palefaces.

118 CAESAR CASCABEL.

Beyond Sitka, the Fair Rambler had at first to cross a
number of narrow passes, by means of ferries ad hoc, so as
to reach the furthest extremity of a sinuous gulf, terminated
in a point, called Lynn canal.

Thenceforth, the road lay on terra firma.

The plan of the journey, or rather the itinerary, had been
carefully studied by Mr. Sergius and John on large scale
maps which they had easily procured at the Gardens Club.
Kayette’s knowledge of the country had been called into
requisition in this circumstance; and her bright intelligence
had enabled her to understand the indications of the map
that was laid under her eyes. She expressed herself half in
Indian, half in Russian, and her remarks were very useful
in the discussion. The question was to find, if not the
shortest, at least the easiest road to Port Clarence, situated
on the east shore of the strait. It was therefore agreed
that the Fair Raméler should make straight for the great
Yukon River, at the height of the fort that has taken its
name from this important stream. This was a point about
midway along the itinerary, say seven hundred and fifty
miles from Sitka. They would thereby avoid the difficul-
ties that would be encountered along the coast line where
not a few mountains are to be met. On the contrary, the
Yukon valley stretches, wide and clear, between the intri-
cate chains of the West and the Rocky mountains, which
separate Alaska from the valley of the Mackenzie and the
territory of New Britain.

It follows, therefore, that a few days after setting out, the
Cascabels had seen, away to the southwest, the last outline
of the uneven coast over which stand, at an immense height,
Mount Fairweather and Mount Elias.

The carefully preconcerted division of time, for labor
and for rest, was strictly adhered to. There was no ‘occa-
sion for increased speed toward Behring Strait, and it was
better to go piano in order to be sure to go sano. The

**My Frienp, I UNDERSTAND You.”’—Page 122.

FROM SITKA TO FORT YUKON. 119

important point was to spare’ the horses, who could not be
replaced, except by reindeer, if ever they broke down, an
eventuality that should be warded off at any cost. Accord-
ingly, each morning the start was made about six o'clock,
then a two hours’ halt at noon, another spur onward till six,
and then rest for the whole night: which gave an average of
fifteen or eighteen miles per day.

Had it been necessary to travel at night, nothing could
have been easier, for, according to Mr. Cascabel’s way of
putting it, the Alaskan sun was not overfond of his bed.

‘‘He has hardly gone to bed when he gets up again!’’ he
used to say. ‘‘Twenty-three hours’ continuous light, and
no extra charge!’’

Sure enough, at this time of the year, that is, about the
summer solstice, and in this high latitude, the sun disap-
peared at seventeen minutes past eleven at night and reap-
peared at forty-nine minutes past eleven
thirty-two minutes’ eclipse beneath the horizon. And the
twilight that was left after its disappearance blended its
light tints, without a break, with those of the succeeding
dawn.

As to the temperature, it was hot, at times stifling. Un-
der such conditions, it would have been more than im-
prudent not to suspend work during the heat of noontide.
Both man and beast suffered intensely from this excessively
high temperature. Who could believe that, on the edge of
the polar circle, the thermometer registers thirty degrees
centigrade above zero? Still, such is the simple truth!

Nevertheless, if the journey was progressing safely and
without any great difficulties, Cornelia, severely tried by the
unbearable temperature, complained not without cause,

“You will soon regret what you now think so hard to

let us say after

_bear!’’ said Mr. Sergius to her one day.

“Regret such heat? Never!’’ she replied.
“Quite so, mother,’’ added John; “‘you will suffer very

120 CAESAR CASCABEL.

differently from the cold, the other side of Behring Strait,
when we shall be going through the steppes of Siberia.”’

‘IT believe you, Mr. Sergius,’’ Cascabel would answer.
‘But if there is no help against the heat, you can fight
against the cold with the aid of fire.”’

““No doubt, my friend, that is what you will have to do
ina few months, for the cold will be terrific, bear it in
mind!”’

Meanwhile, by the 3d of July, after meandering through
the narrow gorges, the cafions, whimsically carved among
hillocks of medium height, the Fazr Rambler saw nothing
on its road but a perspective of ever-lengthening plains
between the scanty woods of this territory.

On that day, they had to follow the bank of a little lake,
from which sprang the Rio Lewis, one of the chief tribu-
taries of the lower Yukon.

Kayette recognized it and said:

“Yes, that is the Cargut, that flows into our big river!’’

She had told John that in the Alaskan dialect this word
“‘cargut’’ was the very word for ‘“‘little river.”’

And, during this journey, free from obstacles and exempt
of fatigue, did the artists of the Cascabel troupe neglect
rehearsing their exercises, keeping up the strength of their
muscles, the suppleness of their limbs, the agility of their
fingers? No, assuredly; and unless the heat would forbid
it, each evening the camping ground was transformed into
an arena whose only spectators were Mr. Sergius and Kay-
ette. Both admired the achievements of the hard-working
people—the Indian girl, not without some astonishment;
Mr. Sergius with kindly interest.

One after the other, Mr. and Mrs. Cascabel lifted heavy
weights with outstretched arms and juggled with dumb-bells;
Sander practised the dislocations and contortions that were
his specialty; Napoleona ventured on a rope stretched

_ pial

FROM SITKA TO FORT YUKON. 121

between two trestles and showed her dancing skill and grace,
while Clovy went through his parade buffoonery before a
purely imaginary public.

Surely, John would have preferred remaining with his
books, improving himself by conversing with Mr. Sergius,
and giving lessons to Kayette, who, thanks to him, was rap-
idly getting acquainted with the French language; but his
father insisted on his losing nothing of his remarkable skill
as an equilibrist, and, for obedience sake, he twirled through
the air his glasses, his rings, his balls, his Knives, and his
sticks—with his mind engaged on very different thoughts,
poor lad!

One thing that had given him great satisfaction, was that
his father had had to abandon his idea of making an
“‘artist’’ of Kayette. From the day when she had been
adopted by Mr. Sergius, a wealthy, educated man, who
belonged to the best society, her future prospects had been
assured, and that, under the most favorable conditions.
Yes, he felt happy to think of it, good honest John did,
although he experienced a pang of real sorrow at the thought :
that Kayette would leave them when they reached Behring
Strait. And leave them she would not have had to, if
she had joined the troupe as a dancer!

For all that, John felt too genuine a friendship for her,
not to rejoice at the fact that she was the adopted child of
Mr. Sergius. Did he not long most ardently, himself, to
change his position? Under the impulse of his loftier
instincts, he felt himself unfit for the showman’s life he led,
and how many a time, on the public square, he had felt
ashamed of the applause lavished on him for his uncom-
monly clever performances!

One evening, walking alone with Mr. Sergius, he opened
his heart to him, laid” bare before him his intimate yearn-
ings and regrets, told him what he fain would have been,
what he thought he might fairly aspire to, Perhaps

122 ‘ CAZSAR CA SCABEL

by dint of roaming the world over, exhibiting themselves
before popular gatherings, keeping up their calling as
gymnasts and acrobats, securing the aid of jugglers and
clowns, his parents might, in the end, reach a certain ease
and comfort, he himself might eventually acquire a little
fortune. But, it would be too late, then, to engage in a
more honorable career.

‘IT do not feel ashamed of my father and mother, sir,’’
he added. ‘‘By no means! I should be an ungrateful
son, if I did!° Within the limits of their ability, they
have done everything! They have been good indeed to
their children! Still, I feel I have in me the making of a
man, and I am fated to be but a poor showman!”’

‘‘My friend,’’ Mr. Sergius said to him, ‘‘I understand
you. But let me tell you that, whatever a man’s trade may
be, it is no trifle to have carried it on honestly! Are you
acquainted with more respectable people than your father
and mother?”’

“Tam not, Mr. Sergius!”’

“Well, continue to esteem them as I esteem them myself.
Your desire to rise out of your present sphere is evidence of
noble instincts. Who knows what the future may have in
store for you? Be brave-hearted, my child, and rely on me
to help you. I shall never forget what your people have
done for me, no, I never shall! And some day, if I can—’’

And as he spoke, John observed that his brow darkened,
that his voice faltered. He seemed to look anxiously to the
future. A momentary silence followed, which the lad inter-
rupted, saying:

““When we are at Port Clarence, Mr. Sergius, sri would
you not continue the journey with us? Since your intention
is to return to Russia, to your father—’’

“That is out of the question, John,” replied Mr. Sergius.
“I have not completed the work of exploration I began in
the territories of West America.”’

de S
4%

al

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i} ae

Pe

FROM SITKA TO FORT YUKON. 123

“And Kayette will remain with you?’’ inquired John,
almost in a whisper.

There was so much sadness in the whispered inquiry,
that Mr. Sergius could not hear it without being deeply
moved.

‘‘Must she not come with me,”’ he replied, ‘‘now that I
have taken her into my charge?”

*“‘She would not leave you, then, sir; and when in your
country—’’

“My child,’’ was the answer, ‘“‘my plans are not definitely
settled yet. That is all I can say to you for the present.
When we are at Port Clarence, we shall see. Perhaps I
may then make a certain proposal to your father, and on his
answer will depend, no doubt,—’’

John noticed once more the hesitation he had already
observed in his companion’s way of speaking. This time
he refrained from further comment, feeling that an extreme
reserve was a duty for him. But, ever since this conversa-
tion, there was a more intimate sympathy between them.
Mr. Sergius had ascertained all that there was of good, of
trustworthy, of noble in that young man so upright, so open-
hearted. He therefore applied himself to instruct him, to
guide him in those studies for which he was inclined. As
to Mr. and Mrs. Cascabel, it was with a grateful heart they
watched what their guest was doing for their son.

Nor did John neglect his duties as purveyor. Very fond
of hunting, Mr. Sergius accompanied him most of the time,
and, between two shots, how many things can be said!
Indeed there was an abundance of game in these plains.
Of hares there were enough to feed a whole caravan. And
it was not as eatables only that they proved useful.

‘Those things you see skipping about here aré not only
dainty bits and ragouts, they are cloaks too, and muffs, and
boas, and blankets!’’ said Mr. Cascabel one day.

‘Vou are right, friend,’’ Mr. Sergius made answer, ‘‘and

124 C4ESAR CASCABEL.., .

after they have appeared in one character, in your meat
safe, they will play quite as useful a part in your wardrobe.
We could not be too plentifully supplied against the hard-
ships of the Siberian climate!”’

And accordingly they gathered quite a stock of the skins,
and spared the preserved meat for such time as winter
would drive the game away from the polar regions.

As for that, if perchance the sportsmen brought home
neither partridge nor hare, Cornelia did not disdain putting
a raven or a crow into the pot, after Indian fashion, and the
soup was none the less excellent.

At other times, it might happen that Mr. Sergius and
John drew forth from their bag a magnificent heathcock,
and the reader will readily imagine how well the roasted
bird looked on the table.

There was no fear of starvation, in fine, on board the
Fair Rambler; true it is, she still was in the smoothest part
of her adventurous voyage.

One annoyance, it must be said,—indeed, a source of pain
and suffering,—was the continual worrying of the mosqui-
toes. Now that Mr. Cascabel was no longer on British
soil, he found them unpleasant. Doubtless, they would
have increased and multiplied beyond measure, had not the
swallows made an extraordinary consumption of them. But,
yet a little while, and the swallows would migrate toward
the south; for, short indeed is their lingering about the
limit of the polar circle!

On the 9th of July, the Fazr Rambler reached the conflu-
ence of two streams, the one a tributary to the other. It was
the Lewis River, flowing. into the Yukon through a large
widening of its left bank. As Kayette remarked, this river,
in the upper portion of its course, also bears the name of
Pelly River. From the mouth of the Lewis it takes a
direction due northwest, and then curves to the west to go
and pour its waters into a vast estuary of the sea of Behring.

\ 4
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a

—

FROM SITKA TO FORT YUKON. 125

At the confluence of the Lewis stands a military post, Fort
Selkirk, less important than Fort Yukon, which is situated
some three hundred miles up the river on its right bank.

Since they had left Sitka, the young Indian woman had
rendered the little troupe valuable services by guiding them
with marvelous accuracy. Once already during her nomadic
life, she had traveled these plains watered by the great
Alaskan river. Questioned by Mr. Sergius on the way her
childhood had been spent, she had related the hardships of
her life, when the Ingelete tribes migrated from one point
to another in the valley of the Yukon, and how her tribe
had been scattered, and how her parents and relatives dis-
appeared. And, again, she told how, left alone in the world,
she had seen herself reduced to seek an engagement as a
servant to some official or agent in Sitka. More than once
had John made her go over her sad history, and each time
he had heard it with the same thrill of emotion.

It was in the neighborhood of Fort Selkirk that they fell
in with some of those Indians who roam along the banks of
the Yukon, and particularly the Birchmen, a tribe whose
name was more fully developed in Kayette’s language: ‘‘the
rovers by the birch trees.’’ Asa matter of fact, the birch
tree is very common among the firs, the Douglas pines, and
the maple trees with which the center of the province of
Alaska is besprinkled.

Fort Selkirk, occupied by some agents of the Russo-
American Company, is, in reality, but a fur and peltry store
where the traders along the coast come and make their pur-
chases at certain seasons of the year.

These agents, delighted with a visit which varied the
monotony of their lives, gave a hearty welcome to the occu-
pants of the Fair Rambler. And in consequence Mr.
Cascabel decided to take a rest here for twenty-four
hours.

However, it was arranged that the wagon would cross the

126 CESAR CASCABEL.

Yukon River at this spot, so as not to have to do su farther
on, and perhaps under less favorable circumstances. Sure
enough, its bed grew wider and its stream more swift in
proportion as it flowed westward.

This advice was given by Mr. Sergius himself after he
had studied on the map the course of the Yukon, which cut
across their route some six hundred miles ahead of Port
Clarence.

The Fair Rambler was therefore ferried to the night bank
with the aid of the agents and that of the Indians who
encamp round about Fort Selkirk, and seek an easy prey
in the waters of the river.

Indeed, the advent of the troupe did not prove useless,
and, in return for the services of the natives, they were
enabled to render them one, the full importance of which
was duly appreciated.

The chief of the tribe was then grievously ill—at least he
might have been thought so. Now, he had no other physi-
cian or other remedies than the traditional magician and
the magical incantations in use among native tribes. Ac-
cordingly, for some time past, the chief had Jain in the open
air, in the center of the village, with a huge fire burning
night and day by his side. The Indians gathered around
him sang in a chorus an invocation to the great Manitou,
whilst the magician tried all his best charms to drive away
the evil spirit that had taken up his abode in the body of
the sick man. And, the better to succeed, he endeavored
to introduce the said spirit into his own person; but the
latter, a stubborn spirit, would not move an inch.

Fortunately, Mr. Sergius had a smattering of the medical
art, and was able to give the Indian chief such a remedy as
his condition required.

On examination, he had no difficulty in finding out the
ailment of the august patient; and calling the little phar-
macy into requisition, he administered to him a violent

CORNELIA CASCABEL HAS AN IDEA, 127

emetic, for which all the magician’s incantations could not
have proved a substitute.

The truth is that the chief suffered from a frightful fit of
over-feeding, and the pints of tea he had been sw allowing
for the past two days were powerless in such a state of
things.

And so, the chief did not die, to the great joy of his tribe—
which deprived the Cascabels of an opportunity to witness
the ceremonies attendant on the burial of a sov ereign.
Burial is not the right word, perhaps, when Indian funerals
are in question. For the corpse is not interred, but sus-
pended in mid-air, a few feet over the ground. There, at
the bottom of his coffin, and intended for his use in the other
world, are laid his pipe, his bow, his arrows, his snow-shoes,
and the more or less valuable furs he wore in winter. And
there, as a child in his cradle, he is rocked by the breeze
during that sleep from which there is no awakening.

After twenty-four hours spent at Fort Selkirk, the Casca-
bels took leave of the Indians and the agents, and brought
away pleasant recollections of this first halt on the bank of
the river. They had to toil up the Pelly River along a
somewhat rugged track, which was the cause of no little
fatigue to the horses. At length, on the 27th of July, sev-
enteen days after leaving Fort Selkirk, the Fair Rambler
arrived at Fort Yukon.

CHAPTER-X1TE
CORNELIA CASCABEL HAS AN IDEA.

T was along the right bank of the river that the Fa/r
Rambler had accomplished that portion of the journey
which lay between Fort Selkirk and Fort Yukon, It had
kept at a shorter or a longer distance from it so as to avoid
the many detours the course of the river would have neces-

128 CESAR CASCABEL.

sitated, cut into, as it is, by innumerable clefts, and ren-
dered inaccessible at times by marshy lagoons. Things
were so, at least, on this side; for, on the left, a few low hills
encase the valley and stretch to the northwest. It might
have been difficult to get over certain small affluents of the
Yukon, ameng others the Stewart, which has not a single
ferry, if, during the warm season, it had not been possible
to ford it, with water half-way up to the knee only. And
even then, Mr. Cascabel and family would have been sorely
puzzled but for Kayette who, knowing the valley well, was
able to guide them to the exact spots.

It was indeed a piece of good fortune for them to have
the young Indian girl for a guide. She was so happy, too,
to oblige her new friends, so pleased to find herself in a
new home, so grateful for those caresses of a mother, that she
had thought she would never more enjoy!

The country was pretty woody in its central part, with
here and there a rise, swelling the surface of the ground; but
it already bore a different aspect from that of the neighbor-
hood of Sitka.

As a fact, the severity of a climate subjected to eight
months of Arctic winter is an absolute check to vegetation.
Hence, with the exception of a few poplars, the tops of which
curve down in the shape of a bow, the only families of fra-
grant trees to be met with in these parts are the firs and the
birches. Beyond these you see nothing but a few clumps
of those melancholy, stunted, and colorless willows that the
breeze from the Ice Sea very quickly strips of their leaves.

During the trip from Fort Selkirk to Fort Yukon, our
sportsmen having been rather fortunate, it had not been
necessary to draw on the reserve stock for the daily require-
ments. Hares there were, as many as could be wished for,
and, if the truth must be told, the guests at our table were
almost beginning to have too much of one good thing.
True, the bill of fare had been varied with roast geese and

CORNELIA CASCABEL HAS AN IDEA. 129

wild ducks, not to mention the eggs of those birds whose
nests Sander and Napoleona were so clever at finding,
deeply buried in holes. And Cornelia had so many recipes
for cooking eggs—she prided herself on it too—that it was
a succession of ever new treats.

“Well, on my word, this is a country where living is
good!’’ exclaimed Clovy one day, as he finished picking
the backbone of a splendid goose. ‘‘It is a pity it is not
situated in the center of Europe or of America!"’

“Tf it were in the center of thickly populated countries,’’
answered Mr. Sergius, ‘“‘it is probable that game would not
be so plentiful.”’

“Unless—”’ began Clovy.

But a look from his master closed his lips and spared him
the nonsensical remark he was certainly going to make.

If the plain swarmed with game, it must be noted like-
wise that the creeks, the rios, the tributaries of the Yukon
supplied excellent fish, which Sander and Clovy caught with
their rods, and more especially magnificent pikes. The
only trouble, or rather pleasure, they need give themselves
was to freely indulge their taste for fishing, for not a sou or
a cent had they ever to spend. -

Spending, indeed! that would have weighed very little
on Master Sander’s mind! Were not the Cascabels sure to
pass their old age in comfort and luxury, thanks to him?
Had he not his famous nugget in his possession? Had he
not concealed, in a corner of the wagon, unknown to all
but himself, the precious stone he had found in the Cariboo
forest? He had; and to this day, the youngster had had
sufficient control over himself to say nothing about it to
anybody, patiently waiting for the day when he could turn
his nugget into current gold. And then, would he not be
proud to show off his fortune! Not indeed, gracious heav-
ens! that the selfish thought had entered his head to keep
the money for himself! His father and mother it was, for

130 CAESAR CASCABEL.

whom he kept it; and with that, they would be largely
compensated for the robbery committed on them in the
Sierra Nevada!

When the Fair Ramébler reached Fort Yukon, after sev-
eral hot days, all the travelers were really tired. It was
therefore agreed that they would stay here for a whole
week.

‘‘You can do so all the more unbegrudgingly,’’ remarked
Mr. Sergius, ‘‘as we are only six hundred miles from Port
Clarence. Now to-day is the 27th of July, and we cannot
possibly cross the strait on the ice before two months’, per-
haps three months’ time.’’

‘‘That is a settled matter,’’ said Mr. Cascabel; ‘‘since
we can afford the time, halt!’’

This command was greeted with equal satisfaction by the
whole troupe, the professional bipeds as well as the four-
footed staff of the Fair Rambler. E

The foundation of Fort Yukon goes back to the year
1847. This, the most westerly post in the possession of the
Hudson Bay Company, is situated almost on the limit of the
polar circle. But as it stands on Alaskan territory this
Company is obliged to pay a yearly indemnity to its rival,
the Russo-American Company. .

In 1864 only were the present buildings and their belt of
palisades commenced, and they had been but lately com-
pleted when the Cascabel family halted at the fort for a few
days’ stay.

The agents readily offered them hospitality within the
precincts of the fort. There was no lack of room in the
yards and underthe sheds. Mr. Cascabel, however, poured
forth his thanks in a few pompous sentences: he preferred
not to leave the roof of his comfortable Fair Rambler.

In reality if the garrison of the fort consisted only of a
score of agents, mostly Americans, with a few Indian sery-

CORNELIA CASCABEL HAS AN IDEA. 131

ants, the natives round about the Yukon were reckoned by
hundreds,

For as a matter of fact, it is in this central point of Alaska
that the most largely frequented market is held for the
traffic in furs and hides. Thither flocked the various tribes
of the province, the Kotch-a-Kutchins, the An-Kutchins,
the Tatanchoks, and, foremost among them all, the Co-
Yukons, who dwell by the banks of the big river.

The truth is, that the situation of the fort is most advan-
tageous for the exchange of goods, standing as it does at
the angle formed by the Yukon at the confluent of the Porcu-
pine. Here the river divides into five streams, which enables
traders to penetrate more easily into the interior and to bar-
ter goods even with the Eskimos by the Mackenzie River.

This network of streams is, accordingly, furrowed with
skiffs, gliding up or down, and especially with numbers of
those ‘‘baidarras,’’ light boat-frames covered with oiled
skins, the seams of which are greased, so as to render them
more water-tight. On board these frail boats the Indians
do not hesitate to venture on long voyages, thinking noth-
ing of carrying them on their shoulders when rapids or
natural dams happen to impede their progress. However,
these skiffs cannot be used more than three months at most.
For the rest of the year the waters are imprisoned under a
thick covering of ice. The baidarra then changes its name
and becomes a sleigh. This vehicle, whose curved ex-
tremity, recalling the prow of a boat, is held in position by
strips of leather from the hide of the moose, is drawn by
dogs or reindeer, and travels quickly. As to foot-travelers,
with their long snow-shoes, they move along more swiftly
still. Always in luck, was our Cesar Cascabel! He could
not have reached Fort Yukon at a better moment. The fur
and hide fair was at its highest; several hundreds of Indi-
ans had already pitched their tents near the trading station.

‘Hang me,’’ he exclaimed, ‘‘if we don’t make something

132 CESAR CASCABEL.

by it! This is a regular fair, and we must not forget that
we are far artists! Is not this the time, if ever, to display
our talents? You see no objection to it, Mr. Sergius?’’.

‘‘None, my friend,’’ replied the latter, ‘‘but I see no great
chance of heavy takings!”’

“‘Why, they'll surely cover our expenses, seeing we have
none!”’

‘Quite true. But, let me ask you, in what way do you
hope these good natives will pay you for their seats, since
they have no American money, no Russian money.”’

‘*Well, they’ll give me muskrats’ skins, beavers’ skins,
anything they like! In any case, the immediate result of
these performances will be to unbend our muscles, for I am
always afraid our joints will get stiff. And, you know, we
have a name to keep up at Perm, at Nijni, and I would not
for the world expose my troupe to a fiasco when we make
our first appearance on your native soil. It would be
the death of me, Mr. Sergius,—yes, it would be my
death!’’

Fort Yukon, the most important in these regions, occu-
pies a pretty large site on the right bank of the river. It is
a sort of oblong quadrilateral construction, strengthened at
each corner with square towerets not unlike those wind-
mills resting on a pivot that are to be seen in the north of
Europe. Inside are several buildings, for the lodging of
the agents of the company and their families, and two vast
inclosed sheds, where a considerable stock is kept of sable
furs and beavers’ skins, and black and silver-gray foxes’
skins, not to speak of less valuable goods.

A monotonous life, a painful life too, is the life of these
agents. ‘The flesh of the reindeer sometimes, but more fre-
quently that of the moose, toasted, boiled, or roasted, is
their main article of food. As to other kinds of victuals,
they must be fetched from the trading-station at York, in
the region of Hudson Bay, that is to say from a distance of

ie

]

> O_o

BAIDARRAS.—Page 131.

CORNELIA CASCABEL HAS AN IDEA, 133

some two thousand miles; and, of necessity, the arrival of
such supplies is an unfrequent occurrence,

In the course of the afternoon, after having arranged ,
their encampment, Mr. Cascabel and family went and paid
a visit to the natives who had squatted between the banks of
the Yukon and the Porcupine.

What a variety in those temporary dwellings according to
the tribe to which they belonged! huts of hides and barks
of trees, held up on poles and covered over with foliage,
tents made of the cotton stuff manufactured by the natives,
wooden cabins that can be taken down or set up accetants
to requirements.

And what quaint mixture of colors in the dresses! Some
wore fur clothing, others cotton garments; all had a garland
of leaves around their heads to preserve themselves against
the bite of the mosquito. The women wear square-cut
petticoats, and adorn their faces with shells. The men
wear shoulder clasps and use them, in winter, to hold up
their long robe of moose’s skin, the fur of which is on the
inside. Both sexes, moreover, make a great show of fringes

‘of false pearls, the size of which is the only standard by
which they are valued. Among these various tribes, were
distinguished the Tanands, easily known by the bright colors
painted on their faces, the feathers on their headdress, the
little pieces of red clay stuck on their egrettes,their leather
vests, their pants of reindeer skin, their long flint guns, and
their powder pouches carved with extreme delicacy.

By way of coin, these Indians use the shells of the den-
talium, which are found even among the natives of the Van-
couver Archipelago; they hang them on the cartilage of their
noses, and take them down when they want to pay for any-
thing.

“‘That is a handy way to carry your money,”’ said Cor-
nelia. ‘‘No fear of losing your purse.”’

‘Unless your nose drops off!’’ justly remarked Clovy.

Ce ae
i. \
v <

134 CAESAR CASCABEL.

‘And that might easily come to pass in such severe win-
ters!’’ added Mr. Cascabel.

. On the whole, this gathering of natives offered a curious
spectacle.

Of course, Mr. Cascabel had entered into conversation
with several of the Indians, by means of the Chinook
tongue with which he was slightly acquainted, whilst Mr.
Sergius questioned and answered them in Russian.

For several days, a brisk trade was carried on between
the natives and the representatives of the Company, but
hitherto the Cascabels had not availed themselves of their
talents for a public performance.

Meanwhile, however, the Indians soon became aware that
the troupe was of French origin, that its various members
enjoyed a wide reputation as athletes, acrobats, and jug-
glers. Each evening they flocked, in wondering crowds,
around the Fair Rambler. They had never seen sucha
vehicle, one with such gaudy coloring above all. They
chiefly praised it because it moved about easily,—a pecu-
liarly pleasing feature in the eyes of nomadic people. Who
knows if, at some future time, Indian tents mounted on
wheels will not be a common sight? After houses on
wheels, we may have villages on wheels, —why not?

It was a natural consequence of such a state of things
that an extraordinary performance should be given by the
new-comers. And accordingly the giving of such a per-
formance was resolved upon ‘‘at the general requests of the
Indians of Fort Yukon.”’

The native with whom Mr. Cascabel had made acquaint-
ance very soon after his arrival was a ‘‘tyhi,’’ that is to say
the chief of a tribe. A fine fellow, some fifty years old, he
seemed full of intelligence; nay, there was a very “‘know-
ing’’ look about him. Several times he had visited the Fazr
Rambler, and had given to understand how glad the natives
would be to witness the exercises of the troupe,

’ CORNELIA CASCABEL HAS AN IDEA, 135

This tyhi was mostly accompanied by an Indian, some
thirty years of age, named Fir-Fu, a graceful type of the
more refined native, who was the magician of the tribe and
a remarkable juggler, well known as such throughout the
Yukon province.

““He is a colleague of ours then?’’ said Mr. Cascabel the
first time that he was presented to him by the tyhi.

And all three, having drunk together some of the liqueurs
of the country, had smoked the calumet of peace.

As the outcome of these conversations, in the course of
which the tyhi had pressed Mr. Cascabel for a performance,
the latter was appointed to take place on the 3d of August.
It was agreed that the Indians would lend their aid, for
they would not be thought inferior to Europeans in
strength, skill, or agility.

This indeed is not surprising; in the Far West, as in the
province of Alaska, the Indians are very fond of gymnastic
and acrobatic displays, and with these they intermix come-
dies and masquerades, at which they are great adepts.

And accordingly, on the appointed date, when a large
audience had been gathered together, you could have seen
a group of half a dozen Indians whose faces. were hid under
large wooden masks of unspeakable hideousness. After
the fashion of the ‘‘big heads’’ at pantomimes, the mouth
and eyes of these masks were set in motion by means of
strings,—which gave an appearance of life to these horrible
faces, most of which ended in birds’ beaks. It were diffi-
cult to imagine what a degree of perfection they had at-
tained in the art of making grimaces, and John Bull (the ape
of course) might have taken some good lessons from them.

Needless to say that Mr. and Mrs. Cascabel, John, San-
der, Napoleona, and Clovy had all donned their gala dresses
. for this occasion.

. The spot selected was an immense meadow surrounded
by trees, of which the Mair Rambler occupied the back-

136 CESAR CASCABEL.

ground, as though a part of a stage scenery. The front
rows had been reserved for the agents of Fort Yukon with
their wives and children. On the sides several hundreds of
Indians, men and women, formed a semi-circle, and smoked
the time away, waiting for the performance.

The masked natives who were to join in it stood by
themselves, somewhat out of the way.

Punctual to the time, Clovy appeared on the platform of
the wagon, and proceeded to deliver his usual address:

“Indian gentlemen and Indian ladies, you are about to
see what you shall see!’’—etc., etc.

But as Chinook ‘‘was to him unknown,’’ it is very
probable that his witticisms were all thrown away on the
audience,

What they did understand was the traditional shower of
blows leveled at him by his boss, and the kicks he received
from behind with all the resignation of a clown who is paid
for that very purpose.

The prologue over:

‘Now, for the quadrupeds!’’ said Mr. Cascabel, bowing
to the audience.

Wagram and Marengo were trotted out to the open space
that had been reserved in front of the Fazr Rambler and
astonished the natives, little accustomed as they were to any
labor that brings out the intelligence of animals. Then,
when John Bull came and went through his vaulting exer-
cises over the spaniel and the poodle, he did so with such
nimbleness, and such droll attitudes, as to unwrinkle the
grave-faced Indians.

Meanwhile, Sander did not cease blowing into the horn
with all the might of his lungs, and Cornelia and Clovy kept
beating their respective drums. If, after that, the Alaskans
did not appreciate all the effect that can be produced by a
European orchestra, the fact can only be explained by their
lacking all sense of what is artistic,

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CORNELIA CASCABEL HAS AN IDEA. 137

Until now, the masked group had been motionless, deem-
ing, no doubt, that the time for action had not come yet:
they were keeping themselves in reserve.

“‘Mademoiselle Napoleona, the high rope dancer!”’
shouted Clovy through a speaking-trumpet.

And the lassie, presented by her father, -made her appear-
ance before the public.

First she danced with such grace as brought her warm
applause, not expressed, indeed, by shouts or the clapping of
hands, but by simple nods of the head which were not
less significant. And these signs of gratification were
renewed when she was seen to dart up on a rope, stretched
between two trestles, and there, walk, run, and skip about,
with an ease which was particularly admired by the Indian
women.

““Now is my turn!’’ exclaimed young Sander.

And behold him coming forward, saluting the public
with a tap on his nape, then twirling, twisting, dislocating
himself, reversing his joints in all kinds of manner, trans-
forming his legs into his arms, and his arms into his legs,
now walking like a lizard, then hopping like a frog, and
eventually terminating the whole with a double somer-
sault.

He, too, received his meed of applause; but he had
scarcely bowed his thanks by bringing his head on a level
with his feet when an Indian, of his own age, stepping out
of the group of native performers came forward in the ring,
and took off his mask.

Every exercise executed by Sander, the young native then
went through with such suppleness in his joints, such accu-
racy in his movements as to leave nothing to be desired
from the acrobatic point of view. If he was less graceful
than the younger of Cascabel’s sons, he was not less aston-
ishing than he. And his exploits accordingly excited among
the natives the most enthusiastic nods.

138 CAESAR CASCABEL.

Needless to say that the staff of the Mair Rambler had
the good taste to add their applause to that of the public.
But, unwilling to be beaten, Mr. Cascabel beckoned to
John to proceed with his juggling, an art in which he con-
sidered him as having no equal.

John felt he had the honor of the family to keep up.
Encouraged by a gesture from Mr. Sergius, and a smile
from Kayette, he took up, in turn, his bottles, his plates, his
balls, his knives, his disks, and his sticks, and it may be
said he surpassed himself.

Mr. Cascabel could not help casting upon the Indians a
look of proud complacency in which could be seen some-
thing like a challenge. He seemed to be saying to the
members of the masked group:

“Well, you fellows, beat that if you can!”’

His thought was, no doubt, understood; for, at a beck of
the tyhi’s, another Indian, pulling off his mask, walked out
of the group.

This was the magician Fir-Fu; he, too, had his reputa-
tion to keep up, on behalf of the native race.

Then, seizing, one after the other, the various articles
used by John, he repeated each and every one of his rival’s
exercises, crossing the knives and the bottles, the disks and
the rings, the balls and the sticks, and all this, it must be
confessed, with as graceful an attitude, as unerring a hand,
as John Cascabel’s.

Clovy, accustomed to admire no one but his master and
his family, was literally bewildered.

This time Cascabel applauded merely as a matter of cour-
tesy and with the tips of his fingers.

‘“My word!’’ he murmured. ‘‘They are no joke, those
redskins aren’t! People without schooling, too! Well!
We shall teach them a thing or two!’’

On the whole, he was not a little disappointed to have
found rivals where he had expected admirers only. And

CORNELIA CASCABEL HAS AN IDEA. 139

what rivals? Simple natives of Alaska,—savages, you might
say. His pride as an artist was stung to the quick. After
all! you are a showman, or you are not!

““Now then, children,” he thundered, ‘‘now for the
human pyramid!’’

And all rushed toward him, as if to the assault, He had
taken a firm stand, his legs wide open, his hips bulging out
well, his bust fully developed. On his right shoulder John
had lightly stepped, holding out a hand to Clovy, who
stood on Cascabel’s left shoulder. In his turn, Sander had
taken up his stand on his father’s head, and, above him,
Napoleona crowned the edifice, circling her two arms to
send kisses to the audience.

The French pyramid had scarcely been up when another,
the native one, rose beside it. Without even removing their
masks, the Indians had stood on each other, not five, but
seven deep; their structure overtopped the other by one
man. Pyramid vied against pyramid.

Shouts and hurrahs were now uttered by the Indian spec-
tators in honor of their tribes. Old Europe was beaten by
young America, and what America?—The America of the
Co-Yukons, of the Tananas, and the Tatanchoks!

Mr. Cascabel, full of shame and confusion, made a wrong
movement and well-nigh hurled his co-workers to the
ground.

“Ah! That’s the way, is it?’’ he grumbled, after ridding
himself of his human load.

‘““Be calm, my friend,’’ said Mr. Sergius to him. “‘It is
really not worth while to—’’

“‘Not worth while, indeed! It is easily seen you are not
an artist, Mr. Sergius!’’

Then, turning to his wife:

‘‘Come, Cornelia, an open-hand wrestling match!’’ he
cried. ‘‘We shall see which of these savages will dare to
face the ‘Chicago champion’ !”’

140 CAESAR CASCABEL

Mrs. Cascabel did not move.

“Well, Cornelia?’’

**No, Ceesar.’’

‘‘How? No? You won’t wrestle with those apes, and
rescue the honor of the family?” :

‘‘T shall rescue it,’’ simply replied Cornelia. ‘‘Leave it
tome. I have an idea!”’

And when this wonderful woman had an idea, it was best
to let her carry it out as she pleased. She felt quite as
much humiliated as her husband by the success of the
Indians, and it was probable she was about paying them
off in her own coin.

She had returned to the Fair Rambéler, leaving her
husband somewhat uneasy, despite all the reliance he
placed in the resources of her intelligence and imagina-

tion.

Two minutes later, Mrs. Cascabel reappeared and stood
before the group of the Indian performers who gathered
around her. ‘

Then addressing the principal agent of the fort, she
prayed him to kindly repeat to the natives what she was
going to say.

And this is what was translated by him, word for word,
in the vernacular tongue of the province of Alaska:

“Indians, you have exhibited, in these displays of muscle
and of skill, talents that are worthy of a reward. That
reward, I bring it to you.”’

The audience listened with breathless attention.

“*You see my hands?’’ continued Cornelia. ‘‘More than
once they have been pressed by the most august personages
of the old world. You see my cheeks? Many a time and
oft they have received the kisses of the mightiest sovereigns
of Europe! Well! these hands, these cheeks, they are
yours! American Indians, come and kiss these cheeks,
come and press these hands!”’

CORNELIA CASCABEL HAS AN IDEA. 14t

And, in very truth, the natives did not wait to be asked
twice. Never again would they have the like opportunity
with so fine a woman!

One of them, a good-looking Tanand, came forth and
seized the hand that she held out to him—

What a yell burst from his lips when he felt a shock that
made him wriggle in a thousand contortions,

“Ah, Cornelia!" whispered Mr. Cascabel, '“Corneliaf Tt
understand you, and I admire you.”’

And Mr. Sergius, John, Sander, Napoleona, and Clovy
were in convulsions of laughter at the trick played on the
natives by this extraordinary woman.

“‘Another!’’ she called, her arms stretched toward the
audience, —‘‘another!”’

The Indians hesitated; something supernatural must have
happened there, they thought.

However, the tyhi seemed to be making up his mind; he
walked slowly up toward Cornelia, stood still a couple
of steps away from her imposing person, and surveyed her
with a look that bespoke anything but a fearless heart
within.

‘‘Now then, old fellow!’’ cried Cascabel to him. ‘‘Now
then, a little courage!—Kiss the lady! It’s the easiest
thing out, and it’s so sweet!”’

The tyhi, stretching out his hand, barely touched the
European belle with his finger.

A second shock, a second series of screams, uttered this
time by the chief, who well-nigh measured his length back-
wards on the ground, and awful stupefaction of the public.
If people were so roughly handled for merely touching Mrs.
Cascabel’s hand, what would come to pass if they ventured
to embrace this astonishing creature, whose cheeks ‘‘had
received the kisses of the mightiest sovereigns of Europe?”’

Well! there was one bold man, venturesome enough to
run the risk. That man was the magician Fir-Fu. He,

142 CAESAR CASCABEL.

at least, should believe himself proof against all malefices!
And so, he planted himself in front of Cornelia. Then,
having walked right round her, and encouraged by the
incentives of his countrymen, he took her in his two arms
and gave her a formidable kiss, full on her cheek.

What followed this time was not a shock, but a series of
leaps and jumps. The juggler had suddenly become an
acrobat! And after two somersaults, as wonderfully per
formed as they were involuntary, he dropped into the midst
of his amazed companions.

To produce this effect on the magician, as well as on the
other natives, Cornelia had merely to press the knob of a
little electric pile she had in her pocket. Yes!—a little
pocket pile with which she acted ‘‘the electrical woman !”’

‘Ah! wifie!—wifie!’’ exclaimed her husband, as he
pressed her in his arms with impunity before the stupefied
Indians. ‘‘Is she clever, eh? Is she clever?”’

**As clever as electrical!’’ added Mr. Sergius.

In truth, what could the natives think, if not that this
supernatural woman disposed of the thunder at her will?
How was it that, for merely touching her hand, you were
knocked to the ground? Surely, she could be no one else
but the wife of the Great Spirit, who had condescended to
come down on earth and take Cascabel for her second
husband!

CHAPTER OXI,
FROM FORT YUKON TO PORT CLARENCE.

HAT same evening, in the course of a conversation at
which the whole family circle was present, it was
decided they would resume their journey two days after
this memorable performance.
Evidently,—this was Mr. Cascabel’s own judicious re-

FROM FORT YUKON TO PORT CLARENCE. 143

mark,—had he been desirous to add recruits to his troupe,
his only trouble would have been the abundance of the
materials at his disposal. Though not without a sting for
his personal pride, he was forced to acknowledge that these
Indians had a wonderful aptitude for acrobatic exercises.
As gymnasts, clowns, jugglers, or equilibrists, they would
have met with immense success in any country. No doubt,
practice was a great element in their talent, but they had to
thank nature even more for making them muscular, supple,
and nimble. Denying their having proved themselves equal
to the Cascabels had been an injustice. Fortunately, the
honor of the day had been saved for the troupe by the pres-
ence of mind of the ‘‘Queen of electrical women’’!

It must be said that the agents at the fort—poor fellows
without any education, most of them—had been no less
astounded than the natives at what had taken place before
them. It was agreed, however, that they should not be told
the secret of the phenomenon, in order to leave with Cor-
nelia the laurels she had won. ‘The next morning, accord-
ingly, when they came to pay their usual visit, they were
afraid to draw too close to the ‘‘thunderbolt woman,”’
although she greeted them with a world of smiles. They
hesitated somewhat before they took her proffered hand,
and so did the tyhi and the magician, who would fain have
known the mystery,—useful as it would have proved to
them, to increase their prestige with the native tribes.

The preparations for the departure being completed, Mr.
Cascabel and his people took leave of their hosts in the
forenoon of the 6th of August, and the horses, now well
rested, started down the river-side, following the direction of
the stream toward the west.

Mr. Sergius and John had carefully studied the map,
availing themselves of the accurate indications given to
them by the young Indian. Kayette knew most of the vil-
lages they would have to cross, and, from what she said,

144 CAESAR CASCABEL.

there were no streams ahead that would be a serious hin-
drance to the progress of the Hazr Rambler.

Besides, there was no question, as yet, of leaving the
Yukon valley. After following the right bank of the river
as far as the station at Nelu, they would call at Nuclukay-
ette village, and thence to Nulato Fort would be about two
hundred and forty miles. The wagon would then leave the
Yukon, and journey due west.

The season still kept favorable; the days were pretty
warm, whilst the nights gave unmistakable signs of a falling
in the temperature. So, barring unforeseen obstacles, Mr.
Cascabel felt sure of reaching Port Clarence before winter
had heaped insurmountable obstacles on his path.

Surprise may be felt at the comparative ease with which
such a journey could be accomplished. °But is not this the
case in flat countries, when the fine season, the length of
the days, the mildness of the climate are in the traveler’s
favor? Things would be altogether different, on the other
side of Behring Strait, when the Siberian steppes would
stretch away to the horizon, when they would be buried
under the winter snow as far as the eye could reach, and
when gusts of the winter blast would plow their surface. -

One evening, as they were chatting of dangers to come:

‘*Well, well,’’ said the sanguine Cascabel, “‘we shall man-
age to pull through, never mind!”’

‘‘T hope so,’’ answered Mr. Sergius. ‘‘But as soon as you
set foot on the Siberian coast, I advise you to make for the
southwest of the province immediately. In the more south-
erly parts, you will suffer less from the cold.”’

‘“‘That is what we mean to do, Mr. Sergius,’’ answered
John.

“And with all the nfore reason, my friends, as you have
nothing to fear from the Siberians, unless—as Clovy would
say—unless you ventured among the tribes on the northern
coast, In truth your greatest enemy will be the cold,’’

FROM FORT YUKON 70 PORT CLARENCE. 145

“We are prepared against it,’’ said Mr. Cascabel, ‘‘and
we shall get on all right; our only regret being that you
will not continue the journey with us, Mr. Sergius.”’

“Our only regret, but a very keen one,’’ added John.

Mr. Sergius felt to what an extent these people had grown
attached to him, and how fond he himself had become of
them. Sure enough, as one day after another was spent in
the intimacy we have described, the bonds of friendship grew
closer and closer between themand him. The parting would
be painful; and would they ever meet again, throughout the
hap-hazard eventualities of two courses of life so different
from each other? And then, Mr. Sergius would bring Kay-
ette away with him, and he had already noticed that John’s
friendship for the young Indian girl was deserving of an-
other name. Had Mr. Cascabel remarked what was going
on in the heart of his son? Mr. Sergius did not feel sure
of it. As to Cornelia, as the good woman had never opened
her mind on the subject, he had thought it his duty to keep
equally reserved. Of what use would an explanation have
been? Quite a different future was in store for Mr. Ser-
gius’s adopted daughter ; and poor John was now indulging
in hopes that could not be realized.

In fine, the journey was proceeding without too many
obstacles, without too much toiling. Port Clarence would
be reached before Behring Strait had been frozen into a
roadway, and there, very probably, they would have to make
a stay of several weeks. No necessity, therefore, to over-
work men or beasts.

| Still, they were always at the mercy of a possible acci-
. dent. One of the horses hurt or sick, a broken wheel, and
: the Fair Ramdler would have been in an alarming position.
The observance of the greatest caution was therefore obliga-
tory.

For the first three days, the route continued to follow the
course of the river, which flowed toward the west, as we

146 C4ESAR CASCABEL.

have said; but the Yukon began to bend southward, and
it was thought right to keep along the line of the seventy-
fifth parallel.*

About this spot, the river was very sinuous, and the valley
became visibly narrower, ensconced by hills of medium
height, which the map designates under the name of “‘ram-
parts’’ on account of their bastion-faced appearance.

Some difficulty was experienced in getting out of this
maze, and all sorts of precautions were taken to save the
wagon from accident. They took a portion of the load
down when the road was too steep, and frequently put their
shoulders to the wheels, the more so, according to Mr,
Cascabel’s expression, ‘‘as wheelwrights seemed rather
scarce in these parts!’’

There were likewise not a few creeks to cross, among
others the Nocotocargut, the Shetehaut, the Klakinicot.
Fortunately, at this season, these streams were shallow, and
it was easy to find available fords.

As to the Indians, there were few or none at all in this
part of the province, once occupied by the tribes of the Mid-
land Men, tribes now almost extinct. From time to time, a
family, at most, passed by, on their way to the southwest
coast for the autumn fishing season.

At other times, likewise, traders met our friends from the
opposite direction, coming from the mouth of the Yukon,
and pushing on toward the various stations of the Russo- '
American Company. They contemplated, not without some
surprise, both the gayly painted wagon and the freight it
carried. Then, with a ‘‘Safe home!’’ they continued their
tramp eastward.

On the 13th of August, the Fazr Rambler arrived at the
village of Nuclakayette, three hundred and sixty miles from
Fort Yukon. It is in reality but another fur-trade station,

By

* Latitude of Trondhjem in Norway.

q

ca

4

Rit
q

Heavy GAME.—FPage 147.

FROM FORT YUKON 70 PORT CLARENCE. 149

the furthest station frequented by Russian agents. Starting
from different points in Russia in Asia, and in Alaska, they
meet here to set up a competition with the buyers of the
Hudson Bay Company.

Hence Nuclakayette was a center to which the natives

converged with the furs they had been able to gather during

the winter season.

Having deviated from the river in order to avoid its num-
erous bends, Mr. Cascabel had met it again in the latitude
of this village, which was pleasantly nestled among low hills
within a gay curtain of green trees. A few wooden huts
clustered around thé palisade with which the fort was pro-
tected. Brooklets murmured through the grassy plain. Two
or three skiffs lay by the bank of the Yukon. The whole
landscape was gratifying to the eye and sugyvestive of rest.
As to the Indians who frequented the neighborhood, they
were Tanands, belonging, as was remarked above, to the
finest type of the native in northern Alaska.

Enticing as this spot looked, the Fair Rambler only
stopped twenty-four hours here. ‘The rest seemed sufficient
for the horses, seeing the care that was taken of them. Mr.
Cascabel proposed to make a longer stay at Nulato, a more
important and better-stocked fort, where various purchases
would be made in view of the journey through Siberia,

Needless to say that Mr. Sergius and John, accompanied
sometimes by young Sander, made good use of their guns,
along the road. By way of heavy game, there were the rein-

’ deer and the moose which ran across the plains and sought

the shelter of the forests, or rather the clumps of trees with
which the country is rather sparingly dotted. In the
marshy parts, the geese, the woodcocks, the snipes, and
the wild ducks afforded many a good shot; and our sports-
men had even an opportunity of bringing down a couple of
herons, little appreciated though these be from the eatable
point of view.

145 CAESAR CASCABEL.

And still, from what Kayette stated, the heron is greatly
prized by the Indians as an article of food—especially when
they have nothing else. A trial of these birds was made at
breakfast, on the 13th of August. Despite all Cornelia’s
talent,—and that talent was marvelous,—the flesh of the
heron seemed tough and leathery, and by none was it
accepted without a protest but by Wagram and Marengo,
who left not a bone.

It is true that, in times of dearth, the natives are glad of
owls, falcons, and even of martens; but the reason of it is, it
must be confessed, that they cannot help it.

On the 14th of August, the Fazr Rambler had to slip
through the windings of a narrow gorge between very steep
hillocks by the bank of the river. This time, so steep was
the pass, so rugged the track, as though it had been the
ravine-bed of a torrent, that, despite all precautions, an
accident happened. Luckily, it was not one of the wheels
that was broken, but one of the shafts. The repairs took
but little time, and a few pieces of rope set matters right
again.

After passing, on one bank of the river, the village of
Suquonyilla, and, on the other, the village of Newi-cargut,
on the creek of the same name, the journey went on with-
out any hindrance. Not a hill was to be seen. One
immense plain spread out farther than the eye could reach.
Three or four rios intersected it; at this season, when rain
is scarce, their beds were quite dried up. At the times of
storms and snow, it would have been impossible to keep up
the itinerary in these parts.

When crossing one of these creeks, the Milo-cargut, in
which there was barely a foot of water, Mr. Cascabel re-
marked that there was a dam across it.

““Well!’’ said he, ‘‘when they went to the trouble of dam-
ming this creek, they might as well have made a bridge over
it! It would have been more useful in times of flood!’’

A TDaAm Across THE MILOCARGUT.—/age 148.

FROM FORT YUKON -TO PORT CLARENCE. 149

. ‘No doubt, father,’’ answered John. ‘‘But the engi-
neers who built this dam would not have been capable of
constructing a bridge!’

**Why so?’”’

“Because they are four-footed engineers, otherwise called
beavers.”’

John was not mistaken, and they were able to admire the
work of these industrious animals, who take care to build
their dam in conformity with the current and to regulate its
height according to the usual low-water level of the creek.
The very slope given to the sides of the dam had been cal-
culated in view of a greater power of resistance to the force
of the waters.

“‘And still,’’ cried Sander, ‘‘these beavers never went to
school to learn lessons.”*

“They had no need of going,’’ answered Mr. Sergius.
“Of what use is science, which is sometimes at fault, when
you have instinct, which is always right? This dam, my
child, the beavers have constructed it, just as ants make
their nests, just as spiders weave their webs, just as bees
contrive the combs in their hives, in fine just as trees and
shrubs bring forth fruits and flowers. No fumbling about,
on their part; no improving either. Indeed there are no
improvements to make here. The beaver of our day is as
perfect in his work as the first beaver that appeared on this
globe. The power of improving does not belong to ani-
mals, it is man’s own; he alone can rise from one improve-
ment to another in the domain of art, of industry, and of
sciences. Let us give free scope to our admiration for this
marvelous instinct of animals, which nables them to create
such things. But let us consider suc.. .ccomplishments only
as the work of nature!"’

“‘Quite so, Mr. Sergius,’’ said John, ‘‘I fully understand
your remark, ‘Therein lies the difference between instinct

15° CAESAR CASCABEL.

and reason, On the whole, reason is superior to instinct,
although it be likely to err.’’

‘Most undoubtedly, my friend,’’ replied Mr. Sergius,
‘‘and the errings of reason, successively recognized and
repaired, constitute but so much headway on the path of
progress.”’

‘‘In any case,’’ repeated Sander, ‘‘I keep to what I said!
Animals can do without going to school.’’

‘Right, but men are only animals when they have not
gone to school!’’ retorted Mr. Sergius.

‘Very well, very well!’’ exclaimed Cornelia, always very

practical in household matters. ‘‘Are your beavers good.

to eat?’’

‘“Of course,”’ said Kayette.

‘“‘T even read,’’ added John, ‘‘that the tail of the animal
is excellent!’

They were unable to verify the statement, for there were
no beavers in the creek, or if there were any, they were not
to be caught.

After leaving the bed of the Milo-cargut, the Pazr Ram-
bler went through Sachertelontin village, in the very heart
of the Co-Yukon district. On Kayette’s recommendation,
certain precautions had to be tuken_ by our friends in their
intercourse with the natives owing to the thieving propensi-
ties of the latter. As they surrounded the vehicle rather
closely, care had to be taken that they should not enter it.
Besides, a few glass baubles, liberally offered to the princi-
pal chiefs of the tribe, produced a salutary effect, and the
episode passed off without any unpleasantness.

The itinerary, however, became once more complicated
with a certain amount of difficuties, skirting as it did the
narrow base of the ‘‘ramparts’’; but it had been impossible to
avoid them without venturing into a more mountainous
country.

FROM FORT YUKON TO PORT CLARENCE. 151

The speed of the journey was affected thereby, and still
it was now advisable not to tarry. The temperature began
to feel coldish, if not during the day, at least at night—
quite a normal occurrence at this season, since the region
‘lay within a few degrees only of the polar circle.

The Cascabels had now reached a point where the river
describes a rather sudden angle toward the north. They
had to follow it up to the confluent of the Co-Yukuk, which
joins it by means of two tortuous streams. One whole day
was spent in finding a fordable spot, nor did Kayette make
it out without trouble, as the level of the stream had
already risen.

Once on the other side of this affluent, the Fair Rambler
resumed its southerly course, and went down through a
somewhat uneven district, to Nulato fort.

This post, the commercial importance of which is con-
siderable, belongs to the Russo-American Company. It is
the most northerly trading station in Western America, being
situated, according to Sir Frederick Whymper’s observa-
tions, in latitude 60° 42’ and longitude 155° 36’.

And yet, in this part of the Alaskan province, it would
have been difficult to believe one’s self in such high latitude.
The soil was unquestionably more fertile than in the neigh-
borhood of Fort Yukon. Everywhere trees of fair growth
could be seen, everywhere pasture lands carpeted with green
grass, not to speak of vast plains that might be profitably
tilled, for the clayey soil is covered over with a thick layer of
humus. The land is, moreover, abundantly watered, thanks
to the meanderings of the river Nulato, whose general di-
rection is southwest, and to the network of creeks or ‘‘car-
guts’’ stretching out toward the northeast. However, the
only signs of vegetable production are a few bushes laden
with wild berries, and utterly abandoned to the whims of
nature.

The laying out of Fort Nulato is as follows: around the

152 CAESAR. CASCABEL.

buildings, a belt of palisades, protected by two towerets,
which Indians are forbidden to enter at night, and even
during the day, when there are many of them together;
within the precincts, huts, sheds, and wooden stores, with
windows where the skin of the seal’s bladder is a substitute
for glass. Nothing more rudimentary, the reader will per-
ceive, than thése stations in far-away America.

There, Mr. Cascabel and his friends received a warm wel-
come. In those out-of-the-way spots on the new continent,
outside the tracks of regular intercommunications, is not the
advent of a few visitors always a relief to monotony, a real
source of enjoyment, and are they not always welcome for
the news they bring from such distances?

Fort Nulato was inhabited by a score of employes, of
Russian or American origin, who placed themselves at the
disposal of the Cascabels, to supply them with anything
they might need. Not only do they receive regular supplies
from the Company, but they are in a position to add to their
resources during the fine season, either hunting the reindeer
and the moose, or fishing in the waters of the Yukon.
There they find abundance of certain fish, particulariy of
‘“‘nalima,’’ a fish more generally used for the feeding of the
dogs, but one the liver of which is rather valued by those
who are accustomed to. eat it.

Naturally the inhabitants of Nulato were somewhat sur-
prised when they descried the Hatr Rambler, and not less so,
when Mr. Cascabel told them of his intention to return to
Europe by way of Siberia. Really, those French folks
doubt of nothing! As to the first portion of the journey, as
far as Port Clarence, they stated their belief that there
would be no obstacles to it, and that it would be completed
before the plains of Alaska were gripped by the first chill of
winter.

On the advice of Mr. Sergius, they resolved to purchase
some of the articles necessary to the trip across the steppes.

FROM FORT YUKON TO PORT CLARENCE. 153
And first of all, it was advisable to get a few pair of those
spectacles that are indispensable over immense tracts whit-
ened with winter rime and snow. The Indians bartered a
dozen of them against a few glass trinkets. They were
only wooden spectacles without any glass, or rather they
were a sort of winkers covering up the eye in such a way as
to allow it to see but through a narrow chink. This is
sufficient to enable you to get along without too much
trouble, and saves you from the ophthalmia which would be
a necessary consequence of the reflection from the snow.
The whole staff made a trial of the winkers, and declared
they could easily get accustomed to them.

Next to this sight-saving apparatus, a covering for the feet
had to be thought of, for you do not promenade in thin
boots or shoes through steppes subjected to the hardships of
Siberian winters.

The Nulato stores supplied them with several pair of
boots made of seal-skins—of those best suited to long jour-
neys over an ice-bound soil, and rendered waterproof by a
coating of grease.

This led Mr. Cascabel to make, in his sententious style,
this very just remark:

“It is always advantageous to clothe yourself in the same
way as the animals of the country you go through! Since
Siberia is the land of seals, let us dress like seals.”’

‘Seals with spectacles on!’’ added Sander, whose sally
received the father’s approbation.

Two days were spent by our party at Fort Nulato, a suffi-
cient rest for spirited steeds. Port Clarence was eagerly
wished for. On the 21st of August, the Fazr Rambler
started onward, and from this moment, finally withdrew
from the right bank of the big river.

As a matter of fact, the Yukon was now flowing straight
for the southwest, to empty itself into Norton Bay. If
they had kept on with it in this new direction, they would

154 C4ESAR CASCABEL.

have needlessly lengthened their journey, since the mouth
of the river lies below Behring Strait. From there, they
would have been obliged to turn up toward Port Clarence
along a coast indented with fiords, bays, and creeks, where
Gladiator and Vermont would needlessly have worn them-
selves out.

The cold was becoming more biting. If the very oblique
rays of the sun still gave a great light, they gave very little
heat. Thick clouds, gathering in a grayish mass, threat-
ened to fall in a shower of snow. Small game was growing
scarce, and the migratory birds were commencing their flight
southward in search of milder winter quarters.

To this day,—a blessing to be thankful for—Mr. Casca-
bel and his party had not been too severely tried by the
fatigues of the journey. In truth, they must have had iron
constitutions,—the result, evidently, of their nomadic life,
the habit of acclimatizing themselves under any and every
sky, and the muscular training of their bodily exercises.
There was then every hope that they all should reach Port
Clarence safe and sound.

And it came to pass thus, on the 5th of September, after
a trip of fifteen hundred miles from Sitka, and almost three
thousand three hundred from Sacramento, say after a jour-
ney of over five thousand miles in seven months through
western America.

CHAPTER. XV;
PORT CLARE maaan

ORT CLARENCE is the most northwesterly port of
northern America on Behring Strait. Lying to the
south of Cape Prince of Wales, it is deeply sunk into that
portion of the coast which forms the nose in the face pro-
filed by the configuration of Alaska. This port affords very

—

ees

PORT CLARENCE. 155

safe anchorage, and is therefore duly appreciated by seamen,
especially by the whalers whose boats seek their fortune in
the Arctic seas,

The Fair Rambler had taken up its camping ground near
the inner shore of the harbor, close to the mouth of a small
river, under shelter of tall rocks crowned with a cluster of
stunted birch trees. There, the longest halt of the whole
journey was to be made. There, the little troupe would
take a lengthy rest,—a rest enforced by the condition of the
strait, the surface of which had not become solid yet, at this
time of the year.

Needless to say that the Hazr Rambler could not possibly
have crossed it on board the Port Clarence ferry-boats, mere
fishing canoes of very small tonnage. It was then obliga-
tory to adhere to the plan of getting over to the Asiatic
side when the sea would be transformed into an immense
ice-field.

This long halt was not to be regretted, previous to under-
taking the second portion of the journey that would witness
the commencement of the real physical difficulties, the strug-
gle against the cold, the battling with the snowstorms—
at least for so long as the Fair Rambler would not have
reached the more accessible territories of southern Siberia.
Until then some weeks, some months perhaps, of hardships
would have to be passed, and it should bea cause of rejoic-
ing to have plenty of time to complete the preparations for
so severe an ordeal. For, if the Indians at Fort Nulato had
been able to supply certain articles, there were others want-
ing still, which Mr. Cascabel expected to purchase either
from the traders, or from the natives at Port Clarence:

The consequence was that his staff experienced a feeling
of genuine satisfaction when he gave out his well-known
word of command:

““Stand at ease!”’

And this order, always welcomed on the march or in mili-

156 CHESAR CASCABEL.

tary maneuvers, was immediately followed by another, loudly
called by young Sander:

‘*Dismiss!"’

And the troupe did dismiss, you may believe it.

As may be imagined, the arrival of the Fair Rambler at
Port Clarence had not escaped notice. Never had such a
perambulating machine ventured so far, since it had now
reached the very utmost confines of northern America.
For the first time did French showmen appear to the won-
dering eyes of the natives.

There were then at Port Clarence, over and above its
usual population of Eskimos and traders, not a few Rus-
sian officials. They were men who, consequent upon the
annexation of Alaska to the United States, were under
orders to cross the strait and repair either to the Tchuktchi
peninsula on the coast of Asia, or to Petropauloyski, the
capital of Kamschatka. These officials joined the whole
population in the hearty welcome they gave to the Cascabel
family, and it is worthy of notice that the Eskimos’ greet-
ing, in particular, was most cordial.

They were the same Eskimos who were to be met in these
parts, twelve years later, by the famous navigator Norden-
skiold, at the time of that bold expedition in which he dis-
covered the northeast passage. Even now, some of these
natives were armed with revolvers and repeating guns, the
first gifts of American civilization,

The summer season being scarcely over, the natives at
Port Clarence had not returned to their winter dwellings
yet. They were encamped under small tents, pitched not
without elegance, made of thick, brightly variegated cotton
cloth and strengthened with straw matting. Inside might
be seen a number of utensils manufactured with cocoanut
shells.

And when Clovy saw these wtensils for the first time, he
exclaimed :

PORT CLARENCE. 157

“‘T say!—And cocoanuts grow here, then? in the Eski-
mos’ forests?”’
‘*Unless,’’ answered Mr. Sergius,—‘‘unless these nuts be

’ brought here from the islands of the Pacific, and given in

payment by the whalers who call at Port Clarence.”’

And Mr. Sergius was right. Indeed, the relations between
the Americans and the natives were already progressing rap-
idly at this time, and a fusion was taking place between
them, entirely to the advantage of the development of the
Eskimo race.

In this connection, we may draw attention to the fact,
which will be noticed hereafter, that there exists no con-
formity of type or manners between the Eskimos of Ameri-
can origin and the natives of Siberia in Asia. ‘The Alaskan
tribes do not even understand the language which is spoken
west of Behring Strait. But their dialect having a very
considerable admixture of English and Russian words, it
was no very hard task to carry on a conversation with them,

It therefore follows that, immediately on their being set-
tled, the Cascabels endeavored to hold intercourse with the
natives scattered around Port Clarence. As they were hos-
pitably received in the tents of these good people, they felt
no hesitation in opening for them the doors of the Fai
Rambler,—and neither party had cause to repent this
interchange of friendly relations.

These Eskimos, besides, are much more civilized than is
generally believed.. They are popularly looked upon as a
sort of speech-endowed seals, human-faced amphibious
creatures, judging of them by the clothing they are in the
habit of wearing, especially in winter time. But this is in
no way concurrent with facts. At Port Clarence, the repre-
sentatives of the Eskimo race are neither repulsive to behold
nor unpleasant to associate with. Some of them even carry
their regard for fashion to the extent of dressing almost
after European style. Most of them obey a certain code of

158 VESAR CASCABEL.

coquetry, which regulates the making of a garment in rein-
deer or in sealskin, the ‘‘pask’’ in marmot’s fur, the tattooing
of the face, that is, a few lines slightly drawn on the skin.
The scanty beard of the men is cut short; at each corner of
their lips three holes, skillfully drilled, enable them to hang
thereby small carved-bone rings, and the cartilage of their
noses receives likewise certain ornaments of the same kind.

In a word, the Eskimos, who came and paid their duties
to the Cascabel family, wore by no means an objectionable
appearance,—the appearance, for instance, but too often
presented by the Samoyedes or the other natives of the
Asiatic coast. The young girls wore strings of pearls in
their ears, and, on their arms, iron or brass bracelets of
very fair workmanship.

It should also be noted that they were honest people, full
of good faith in their transactions, though they be given to
bargaining and haggling to excess. Forsooth, upbraiding
the natives of the Arctic regions for such a fault would be
severe indeed.

The most perfect paaakly reigns among them. Their
clans have even no chieftains. As to their religion, it is
paganism. By way of divinities, they worship wooden posts,
with carved faces painted red, which represent various sorts
of birds whose wings are stretched out to their full, like so
many fans. Their morals are pure; their sense of home
duties highly developed; they respect their parents, love
their children, and revere the dead. The remains of the
latter are exposed in the open air, dressed in holiday attire,
with their weapons and cayak lying by their side.

The Cascabels took great pleasure in their daily walks
round about Port Clarence. Not unfrequently, likewise,
they paid a visit to an old oil-factory, of American founda-
tion, which was still working at this season.

The country is not without trees, nor does the appearance
of the vegetating soil differ much from that which is pre-

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PORT CLARENCE. 159

sented by the peninsula of the Tchuktchis on the other side
of the strait. This is due to the fact that along the coast
of the New Continent there flows a warm current from the
burning seas of the Pacific, whereas the cold current that
bathes the Siberian coast comes from the basin of the
boreal seas. :

As a matter of course the thought of giving a perform-
ance to the natives at Port Clarence did not enter Mr. Cas-
cabel’s mind. He now felt misgivings on that point, and
he had cause to. What if among them were acrobats, and
jugglers, and clowns as expert in their art as those of the
Indian tribes at Fort Yukon!

Better not run the risk of compromising the honor of
the family once more!

Meanwhile the days passed by, and, in reality, the little
troupe had a longer rest than it needed. No doubt but one
week’s rest at Port Clarence would have enabled them to
attack the fatigues of their journey through Siberian wastes.

But the Fazr Rambler was still forbidden the strait. By
the end of September, and at this latitude, even though the
mean temperature was already below zero, the arm of the
sea which separates Asia from America was not frozen yet.
True, numerous icebergs passed by, accumulated in the
open sea on the verge of the basin of Behring, and were
drifted northward along the Alaskan coast by the current
from the Pacific. But these icebergs had to cohere into one
solid mass ere they offered the gigantic, firm, and steady
ice-field we spoke of, a veritable “‘carriage-drive’’ between
the two continents.

It was evident that on this sheet of ice with a power of
resistance sufficient to bear a train of artillery, the Farr
Rambler and its occupants would run no risk. The strait,
indeed, measured but some sixty miles across its narrowest
width, from Cape Prince of Wales, somewhat above Port”
Clarence, to the little port of Numana, on the Siberian coast.

160 CAESAR CASCABEL.

‘Verily, verily,’’ said Mr Cascabel, ‘‘it is a great pity the
Americans did not run up a bridge here.”’

“Sixty miles of a bridge!’’ exclaimed Sander.

‘Why not?’ remarked John. ‘‘It might be supported,
in the middle of the strait, by the Isle of Diomede.’’

“The feat would not be impossible,’’ rejoined Mr. Ser-
gius; ‘‘and one may indulge the belief that it will be done
some day, like everything that the intelligence of man can
achieve.”’

“Why! They are even now talking of bridging the Brit-
ish Channel over,’’ said John.

“You are right, my friend,’’ said Mr. Sergius. ‘“‘Still,
let us own it, a bridge across Behring Strait would not prove
so useful as one from Calais to Dover. Positively, the
former would not cover its expenses!’

‘‘Although it were but of little use for the generality of
travelers,’’ suggested Cornelia, ‘‘to us at least it would be
a boon.”’

“Why! Now that I think of it,’’ answered Mr. Cascabel,
“the bridge here does exist for two-thirds of the year, an
ice bridge, as strong as any bridge made of iron or stone!
Dame Nature it is who builds it every year when the ice
breaks up at the pole, and she charges no toll on it!”’

With his habit of taking things by their best side, Mr.
Cascabel was quite right. What was the use of spending
millions on a bridge, when both foot travelers and carriages
need only await the favorable moment to obtain a safe
thoroughfare?

And sure enough the thing would shortly come to pass
now. A little more patience was all that was needed.

About the 7th of October it became apparent that winter
had set in, in downright earnest. Snow showers were fre-
quent. All trace of vegetation had disappeared. The few
trees along the shore, spoiled of their last leaves, were coy-
ered with rime. Not one of those sickly-looking plants of

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PORT CLARENCE. 161

the Boreal regions could be seen, so closely allied to those
of Scandinavia; not one of those /nnearta which make up
the greatest part of the Arctic flora.

However, ‘if the blocks of ice still floated through the

strait, thanks to the swiftness of the current, they increased

in breadth and thickness. Even as a good blast of heat is
sufficient to solder metals, even so a good blast of cold was
all that was now needed to solder together the pieces of the
icefield. This blast might be expected from one day to
another.

At the same time, if the Cascabels longed to be able to
avail themselves of the strait and to leave Port Clarence, if
it was a joy for them to think of setting their feet once
again on the Old Continent, that joy was not unmingled with
bitterness. That hour would be the hour of parting. They
would leave Alaska, no doubt, but Mr. Sergius would remain
in the country, since there was no question of his going
further westward. And, winter over, he would resume his
excursions through that portion of America of which he
desired to complete the exploration and visit the districts
lying north of the Yukon and beyond the mountains.

A cruel parting it would be for all; for, all were now
bound, not by the bonds of sympathy alone but by a very
close friendship!

The most aggrieved, it will be guessed, was John. Could
he forget that Mr. Sergius would take Kayette away with
him? And, still, was it not to the young girl’s interest that
her future prospects should be in the hands of her new
father? With whom could they be in better keeping than
with Mr. Sergius? He had made her his adopted daughter,
he would bring her to Europe, he would get her educated,
and would assure her a position that she would never have
found in the home of a poor showman. In the face of such
advantages, were it possible to hesitate? No, assuredly!

and John was the first to acknowledge it. Still he none the

162 CAESAR CASCABEL.

less experienced a feeling of sorrow which his ever increasing
sadness betrayed but too plainly. How could he have mas-
tered his feelings? Part with Kayette, see her no more, see
her no more even when she would be so far from him phys-
ically and morally, when she would have taken her place in
the family circle of Mr. Sergius; give up the pleasant habit
they had grown into of chatting together, working together,
being always near one another, all this was heart-breaking.
John loved Kayette; he loved her with a real love, a love he
had revealed in the attentions he paid her, in the trembling
of his voice when he spoke to her. That love was requited,
perhaps, even unknown to the young girl! All that would
be broken when they should part, part perhaps forever.

On the other hand, if John felt very wretched, his father
and his mother, his brother and his sister, deeply attached
to Kayette, could not grow accustomed to the thought of
parting with her, or with Mr. Sergius either. They would
have given ‘‘a big sum,’’ as Mr. Cascabel put it, for Mr.
Sergius to accompany them to the end of their journey.
They would have afew months more, at least, to spend
with him, and then—why, then—they would see.

We have mentioned above that the inhabitants of Port
Clarence had taken a great liking for the Cascabels, and no
little apprehension was felt on their behalf as the time drew
near when they would venture among the too real dangers
of their journey. But, interested as they were in these
French people who had come from such a distance and were
going so far away, some of the Russians, recently arrived
at the strait, were inclined to observe the individual mem-
bers of the party, and more especially Mr. Sergius, with a
very different kind of interest.

The reader will not have forgotten that there so-
journed, then, at Port Clarence, a certain number of
officials recalled on Siberian territory, owing to the annexa-
tion of Alaska,

PORT CLARENCE. 163

Among, them were two agents entrusted with a very
special supervision on the American territories subjected to
the Muscovite administration. It was their mission ‘to
watch the political refugees to whom New Britain offered
an asylum, and who might be tempted to cross the Alaskan
frontier. Now, this Russian, who had become the guest and
companion of a showman's troupe, this Mr. Sergius whose
journey happened to terminate just at the very limit of the
Czar’s empire, had somewhat aroused their suspicions, and
they watched him accordingly, but with sufficient caution
to escape notice.

Little did Mr. Sergius dream of his being the object of
suspicious watching. He, too, had his mind full of the ap-
proaching parting. Was he wavering between his project
to resume his excursions through Western America, and
the thought of giving it up, so as to follow his new friends
to Europe? It would have been hard to say. However,
seeing him very pensive, Mr. Cascabel determined to bring
him to an explanation on this subject.

One evening, the 11th of October, after supper, turning
to Mr. Sergius, as though he spoke of quite a new thing:

‘“By the way, Mr. Sergius,’’ said he, ‘“‘you know we shall
soon start for your country?’’

‘Of course, my friends. That’s agreed on.”’

“Yes! Weare going to Russia; and, as luck would have
it, we shall pass through Perm, where your father lives, if I
mistake not.”’

‘Quite so, and your departure excites both my regret and
my envy!”’

‘“‘Mr. Sergius,’’ inquired Cornelia, ‘‘do you propose to
stay much longer in America?’’

“‘Much longer? I hardly know.”’

‘‘And when you come back to Europe, which way will
you come?’’ .

'T shall return by the Far West, as my explorations will

164 CAESAR CASCABEL.

naturally bring me back toward New York, and it is there,

I shall take ship, with Kayette.’’

‘‘With Kayette!’? murmured John, as he looked toward
the girl, who hung down her head.

A few moments’ silence followed. Then Mr. Cascabel
began again, hesitatingly:

‘Now, Mr. Sergius, I am going to beg leave to make a
proposal to you. Of course I am aware that it will be very
hard to pull thorough that devilish Siberia! But witha
good heart and a will—”’

‘“My friend,’’ replied Mr. Sergius, ‘“be persuaded that I
am frightened neither by the dangers nor by the fatigues, and
I would share them with you willingly, if—’’

‘‘Why not complete our journey together?’’ asked Cor-
nelia.

“It would be so nice!’’ added Sander.

“‘And I would give you such a kiss if you said yes!’’
exclaimed Napoleona.

John and Kayette had breathed not a word, but their
hearts beat violently.

*“My dear Cascabel,’’ said Mr. Sergius, after a few mo-
ments’ reflection, ‘‘I should like to have a chat with your-
self and your wife.’’

‘“‘At your service, sir, this very moment.’”’

‘No, to-morrow,’’ answered Mr. Sergius.

Thereupon, each one retired to his little bed, both very
uneasy and singularly puzzled.

What motive had Mr. Sergius for this private conversa-
tion? Had he made up his mind to alter his plans, or, on

the contrary, did he simply mean to enable the Cascabels to .

accomplish their journey under better conditions by making
them accept some money?

Be that as it might, neither John nor Kayette had one
hour’s sleep that night.

Next day, in the course of the morning, the conversation

IN CLOSE CoNVERSATION.—/age 168.

PORT CLARENCE. 165

did take place. Not through any distrust of the children,
but for fear of being overheard by the natives or other peo-
ple who continually passed by, Mr. Sergius asked Mr. and
Mrs. Cascabel to accompany him a certain distance away
from the encampment. Doubtless, what he had to say was
important, and it was advisable to keep it secret.

All three walked up the beach in the direction of the oil
factory, and this is how the conversation began:

““My friends,’’ said Mr. Sergius, “‘listen to me, and pon-
der well ere you give your answer to the proposal I am
about making to you. Of your good heart I have no doubt,
and you have shown me to what extent your devotion can
go. But, before you take one final resolution, you must
know who I am.’’

‘“‘Who you are? Why, you are an honest man, of course!’’
cried Cascabel.

‘Well, be it so, an honest man,’’ repeated Mr. Sergius;
‘‘but an honest man who is desirous not to add, by his
presence, to the dangers of your journey through
Siberia.”’

‘‘Your presence a danger, Mr. Sergius?’’ said Cornelia.

‘‘Quite so, for my name is Count Sergius Narkine. I am
a political outlaw!”’

And Mr. Sergius briefly related his history.

Count Sergius Narkine belonged to an opulent family in
the Government of Perm. As he had stated previously,
he had quite a passion for geographical sciences and dis-
coveries, and he had spent his youth in travels and voyages
in every part of the world.

Unfortunately, he had not confined himself to those bold
undertakings where he might have acquired great celebrity.
He had mixed himself up with politics, and, in 1857, had
been compromised in a secret society which he had been
led to join. In short, the members of this society were
arrested, tried with all the severity peculiar to the Russian

’

166 CESAR CASCABEL.

government, and, for the most part, sentenced to transpor-
tation for life in Siberia.

Count Sergius Narkine was among the majority. He
had to start for Iakoutsk, the locality assigned to him, and
part with his only surviving relative, his father, Prince
Wassili Narkine, now an octogenarian, who resided on his
estate at Walska, near Perm.

After spending five years at Jakoutsk, the prisoner had
succeeded in making his escape to Okhotsk on the coast of
the sea of that name. There he had been able to take
passage on board a ship sailing for one of the Californian
ports; and it was thus that, for seven years past, Count Ser-
gius Narkine had lived either in the United States or in
New England, always endeavoring to get nearer to Alaska
and to enter it as soon as it should become American. Yes!
his heart’s fond hope was to return to Europe by way of Si-
beria,—the very thing projected, and now being carried out,
by Cascabel. His feelings may be imagined, the first time
he heard that the people to whom he owed his life were on
their way to Behring Strait for the very purpose of passing
into Asia.

Naturally he would have wished for nothing more than to
accompany them. But, could he expose them to the repri-
sals of the Russian government? If it became known that
they had ‘‘aided and abetted’’ the return of a political exile
to the Muscovite empire, what would happen? And yet, his
poor old father! how glad he would be to see him once more!

“Well then, come, Mr. Sergius, come along with us!”’
exclaimed Cornelia.

“Your liberty, my friends, your lives perhaps, will be at
stake, if it is known that—’”’

“And what matter, Mr. Sergius?’’ said Cascabel. ‘‘We
all have an account open, there above, haven’t we? Well,
let us try to get as many good actions as we can on the
credit side! They’ll balance the bad ones!”’

FAREWELL. TO THE ' NEW CONTINENT. 1607

“Do bear in mind, my dear Cascabel—’’

“Besides, you'll never be known, Mr. Sergius! We
know a trick or two, we do; and hang me if we aren’t a
match for all the agents of the Russian police.’’

“*Still—’’ continued the Count.

“And then, why—if needs be—you might dress like our-
selves; unless you were ashamed.”’

“Oh! my friend!”

‘‘And who would ever get it into his head that Count
Narkine was a member of the Cascabel troupe?”’

“Well, I accept, my friends! Yes! I accept! And I
thank you.”

“That will do,—that will do,’’ said the showman. ‘‘Do
you think we haven’t as many thanks to offer you, our-
selves! And so then, Count Narkine—’’

“Do not call me Count Narkine. I must continue to be
simpy Mr. Sergius for everybody, even for your children.”’

“You areright. Itis needless they should know. That's
a settled thing! You come with us, Mr. Sergius. And I,
Cesar Cascabel, undertake to bring you to Perm, or—may
I lose my name!—which would be an irretrievable loss for
art, you will confess.”

As to the welcome accorded to Mr. Sergius on his return
to the Fair Rambler, when John, Kayette, Sander, Napo-
leona, and Clovy heard that he would accompany them to
Europe, it will be readily imagined without any need of
description.

CHAPTER XVI.
FAREWELL TO THE NEW CONTINENT.

ND now, the only thing. was to carry out the prear-
ranged journey toward Europe.

All being well considered, the plan showed fair chances

of success, Since the checkered course of their gypsy life

168 CAESAR CASCABEL.

brought the Cascabels through Russia, nay more, through
the very Government of Perm, the best thing Count Ser-
gius Narkine could really do was to join them for the rest
of the journey. How could it be suspected that the politi-
cal prisoner who had made his escape from Siberia was
among the artists of a showman’s caravan? If no indiscre-
tion was committed, success was sure; and, once in Perm,
after he had seen Prince Wassili Narkine, the Count would
shape his course to the best of his interests. Having
crossed Asia without leaving behind him any clue that the
police might get hold of, he would make up his mind ac-
cording to circumstances.

On the other hand, it is true, if he were recognized along
the road, unlikely as it seemed, it might have terrible conse-
quences for him, and for the Cascabels too. But neither
Mr. Cascabel nor his wife would take that danger into ac-
count, and, had they consulted their children on the sub-
ject, the latter would have approved of their conduct. Still
Count Narkine’s secret should be strictly kept; their travel-
ing companion would continue to be Mr. Sergius.

Later on, Count Narkine would be in a position to ac-
knowledge the devotion of these good French people, al-
though Mr. Cascabel would hear of no other reward than
the pleasure of obliging him, while, at ae same time, out-
witting the Russian police.

Unfortunately,—an event which neither of them could
anticipate,—their plans were about being seriously com-
promised, at the very start.

At their landing on the opposite shore, they would straight-
way be exposed to the greatest dangers, and, doubtless,
arrested by the Russian agents in Siberia.

Sure enough, the very day after the conclusion of this
new arrangement, two men were talking, up and down one
end of the harbor, where no one could hear their conversa-
tion,

FAREWELE TO THE NEW CONTINENT. 169

They were the two agents we have already named, and
who.had been surprised and puzzled by the presence of Mr.
Sergius among the occupants of the Hair Rambler.

Residing at Sitka for several years past, and intrusted
with the political surveillance of the province, it was their
duty (it has been said) to spy the doings of the refugees
in the neighborhood of the Columbian frontier, to report
them to the Governor of Alaska, and to arrest any of them
who should attempt to cross the border.

Now a serious matter it was, that, if they had no personal
knowledge of Count Narkine, they had been given his de-
scription at the time of his escape from the Iakoutsk citadel.
On the arrival of the Cascabel family at Port Clarence, they
were astonished at the sight of this Russian, who had
neither the gait nor the manners of an itinerant artist.
How did he happen to be among these show people, who,
coming from Sacramento, followed so strange a route to re-
turn to Europe?

Their suspicions once aroused, they had made inquiries,
had taken observations, cleverly enough not to excite atten-
tion, and after comparison of Mr. Sergius with the descrip-
tion they had in hand of Count Narkine, their doubts had
given place to a feeling of certainty.

‘Ves, this is indeed Count Narkine!’’ said one of the
agents. ‘‘No doubt he was roaming about the frontiers of
Alaska until the province would be annexed, when he fell
in with those gypsies, who came to his help, and now he is
preparing to cross over to Siberia with them!”’

Nothing more accurate; and if, at first, Mr. Sergius had
had no thought of venturing beyond Port Clarence, the two
agents felt no surprise whatever when they heard that he
had resolved to follow the Fair Rambler beyond the strait.

“That is agood windfall for us!'’ answered the second
agent. ‘‘Had the Count remained here, on American soil,
we dared not have arrested him,”’

170 C4ESAR CASCABEL.

‘While, now, as soon as he sets his foot on the other side
of the strait,’’ continued the former, ‘‘he will be on Rus-
sian territory, and he cannot escape us if we be there to re-
ceive him in our arms!’’ |

‘‘That’s an arrest that will be to our greater glory—and
profit! what a master-stroke for our coming home! But
how shall we go about it?”’

‘It’s very simple! The Cascabels will start off presently ;
and as they will take the shortest cut, there is no doubt but
they will make for the port of Numana. Well, if we get there
before, or even at the same time as Count Narkine, we shall
have nothing to do but collar him!”’

‘*Quite so, but I would rather be at Numana before him,
so as to warn the coast police, who might lend us a hand in
case of need!”’

““That’s what we shall do, if possible. These showmen
will be obliged to wait until the ice is strong enough to bear
their wagon, and we can easily get ahead of them. Let us
stay here then, in the meantime, and keep our eye on
Count Narkine without letting him know. Even though he
must mistrust Russian officials on their way home from
Alaska, he cannot possibly guess that we have recognized
him. And so, he will surely make a start; we shall arrest
him at Numana, and then conduct him, under safe escort,
to Petropaulovski or to Iakoutsk.”’

‘‘And if his acrobats wanted to defend him.”’

*‘Well, they will pay dearly for having helped a political
exile to return to Russia!’’

So simple a plan was fated to succeed, since the Count
was utterly unaware of his having been recognized, since
the Cascabels had no idea that they were the object of
special surveillance. And so the journey, so auspiciously
commenced, ran the risk of having a sad termination for
Mr. Sergius and his companions.

And, while this plot was being devised, they were all en-

FAREWELL TO THE NEW CONTINENT. 171

-joying the prospective happiness of remaining together, of
starting together for Russia. What joy it was for John and
Kayette especially!

Needless to say that the two police agents had kept to
themselves the secret they were going to work out. And
no one at Port Clarence could have imagined that so im-
portant a personage as Count Sergius Narkine was under
the roof of the Fazr Rambler.

Meanwhile, it had not been found possible, yet, to fix a
day for the departure. They watched with the greatest im-
patience every change in the temperature,—a truly anoma-
lous temperature,—and never in his life had Mr. Cascabel
so ardently wished for such a frost ‘‘as the rocks themselves
could not stand.”’

Still, it was of importance that they should be on the
other side of the strait ere winter had taken complete pos-
session of those regions. As it would attain its greatest
severity only during the first weeks of November, the Fair
Rambler would have time to reach the southern regions of
Siberia. There, in some village or other, they would wait
for the favorable season to push on to the Ural mountains.

Under these conditions, Vermont and Gladiator could
traverse the steppes without too much fatigue. The Casca-
bel family would reach Perm just in time for the fair, that
is, by the month of July of the following year.

And those icebergs kept on forever drifting north, carried
on by the warm current of the Pacific! That ever restless
flotilla of ice kept on shifting about in the strait instead of
the long-looked-for compact and steady mass!

On the 13th of October, however, the drifting seemed to
slacken. ‘To the north, to all appearance, a blockade stopped
the way. And sure enough, far away in the horizon, you

’ could see a continuous line of white peaks, a sure sign that
the Arctic Sea was now wholly frozen, The white glare

val

172 CASAR CASCABEL,

reflected by the ice filled the sky; the entire solidification
could not tarry long.

Now and again Mr. Sergius and John would consult the
fishermen at Port Clarence. Several ttmes already both
had thought that the crossing might be attempted; but the
seamen, who ‘‘knew every inch of the strait,’’ had advised
them to wait.

‘‘Don’t be in a hurry,’’ they would say. ‘*Let the frost
do its work! It hasn’t been hard enough yet! And then,
even if the water was all frozen on this side of the strait,
there is nothing to show that it is so on the other, especially
in the neighborhood of the Isle of Diomede.’’

And the advice was a wise one.

‘‘Winter is not very forward, this year!’’ said Mr. Ser-
gius to a fisherman, one day.

‘SNo,’? the man replied, ‘‘it is rather late. “And? thats
another reason why you should not hurry before you are
sure that you can get across. And then again, your wagon
is heavier than a man‘on foot; it needs greater strength
under it. Wait till a good fall of snow brings all the ice-
bergs to a level, and then you can fire away,the same as on
a highroad! Besides, you’ll soon make up for lost time,
and you won’thave run the risk of remaining in distress,
fair in the middle of the strait!"’

Such reasoning should needs be heeded, coming as it did
from practical men. And so, Mr. Sergius did his utmost to
calm his friend Cascabel, who proved the most impatient
of the party. The chief point was to endanger, by no im-
prudent act, either the success of the journey or the safety
of the travelers.

ee

“‘Come,”’ he would say to him, ‘‘be calm and reasonable!
your Fair Ramé/er is not a boat, and if it got caught be-
tween two ill-joined blocks of ice, it would not be long
going to the bottom, The Cascabel family has no need of

FAREWELL TO THE NEW CONTINENT. 173

increasing its celebrity by seeking a watery grave in the
strait of Behring!”’

“And would it be increased thereby?”’ replied the vain
Ceesar, with a smile.

In any case Cornelia intervened and distinctly stated she
would allow no imprudence to be committed.

“Why, it’s on your account, Mr. Sergius, that we are in
such a hurry!”’ exclaimed Mr. Cascabel.

“Well, I, my friend, am in no hurry concerning you!”’
Count Narkine replied.

In spite of the general feeling of impatience, John and
Kayette did not feel the time weigh heavily on their hands,

He continued to be her teacher. Already she was begin-
ning to talk and understand French fairly well. Between
them there was now no difficulty to understand one another,
And then Kayette was so happy in this home, so happy near
John, who was all attention to her! In very truth, Mr.
and Mrs. Cascabel should have been blind not to see what
kind of a feeling she had awakened in their son. Indeed
they were growing uneasy about it. They knew what Mr.
Sergius was, and what Kayette would be one day. She
was no longer the poor Indian girl, on her way to beg a situ-
ation as a servant at Sitka; she was the adopted daughter
of Count Narkine. And John was preparing a world of
bitter disappointment for himself in the future.

“After all,’’ Mr. Cascabel would say, ‘‘Mr. Sergius has
eyes to see with; he is very well aware of what is going on!
Well, Cornelia, if he says nothing, we have nothing to say,
either !’’

One day, John asked the young gitl:

“Are you pleased, little Kayette, to be going to Europe?”’

“To Europe? Yes!’’ replied she. ‘‘But I should be
better pleased still to be going to France!”’

“You are right. A fine country, and a good country is
ours! If ever it could become yours, you would like it,”’

1 ae ee Bess

rp

174 CASAR CASCABEL.

‘IT would like any country where your people would be,
John, and my greatest desire is to leave you no more!”’

‘Dear little Kayette!’’

“*It is very far to France?’’ .

‘‘Any country is far away, Kayette, when you long to be
there? But we shall arrive—too soon perhaps—”’

“Why so, John?”’

‘Because you shall stay in Russia with Mr. Sergius! If
we do not part here, we shall have to part there! Mr. Ser-
gius will keep you, little Kayette! He will make a fine
young lady of you; and we shall never see you again!”’

‘‘Why talk like that, John? Mr. Sergius is good and
grateful. It was not I that saved his life, it was you, yes,
it was you! If you had not been there, what could I have
done for him? If he is alive now, it is to your mother, it
is to you all that he owes it! Do you think Mr. Sergius
can forget it? If we do part, John, why do you say it will
be for ever?’’

‘IT do not say so, little Kayette!’’ answered John, who
could no longer contain his emotion. ‘‘But,—I fear so!
Never see you again, Kayette! If you knew how unhappy
I should be! And then, it is not merely to see you I should
have wished. Look, since you are alone in the world, why
cannot our Rome be enough for you! My father and mother
love you so.’

“‘Not more than I love them, John!”’

‘And my brother and sister too! I had cherished the hope
that they would have been a sister and a brother for you!”’

**So they will always be. And you, John?’

‘*I—I should be—a brother too, little Kayette,—but more
devoted—more loving!”’

And John went no farther. He had seized Kayette’s
hand, he pressed it in his. Then he went away, unwilling
to say more. Kayette, full of emotion, felt her heart
throbbing violently, and a tear dropped from her eye,

FAREWELL TO THE NEW CONTINENT. 175

On the 15th of October, the seamen about Port Clarence
informed Mr. Sergius that he might get ready to go. The
cold had become more intense for the last few days. The
mean temperature did not now rise to ten degrees Centi-
grade below zero. ‘The ice-field appeared absolutely motion-
less. They no longer could hear even those significant
crackling sounds that can be noticed before the blocks of
ice are completely cemented together.

It was probable they would presently witness the arrival
of some of those natives of Asia, who cross the strait dur-
ing the winter and carry on a certain amount of trading
between Numana and Port Clarence. This ‘roadway, in-
deed, is rather largely frequented at times. It is no unusual
thing for sleighs, drawn by dogs or by reindeer, to go from
one continent to the other, covering in two or three days
the sixty miles that separate the two nearest points of the
respective shores. This spot affords, then, a natural
thoroughfare, opened at the beginning and closed at the
end of winter, say, practically, for over six months. But
care must be taken not to start either too soon or too late,
so as to avoid the frightful catastrophes that would result
from a breaking up of the ice.

In view of the journey through Siberia until the day when
the Fair Rambler would halt to take up its winter quarters,
Mr. Sergius had purchased, at Port Clarence, various arti-
cles of absolute necessity on a journey accomplished in such
climes, among others several pair of those snow-shoes
which the Indians put on like skates, and which enable them
to skim swiftly over a vast extent of frozen ground, _ Itiner-
ant ‘‘artists’’ needed no very long apprenticeship to become
familiar with them. Within a few days, John and Sander
had become expert ‘‘snow-racers’’ by practicing on the
frozen creeks along the shore.

Mr. Sergius had also completed the stock of furs bought
at Fort Yukon. It was not sufficient for the travelers to

ae

«
176 CESAR CASCABEL.

wrap themselves up in those warm furs to preserve them-
selves against the cold, they should likewise pad the*com-
partments of the “air Rambler with them, cover the beds,
the partitions, and the floor with them, so as to keep up the
heat generated by the kitchen stove. Besides,—too great
emphasis could not be laid on it,—the strait once traveled
over, Mr. Cascabel’s intention was to spend the hardest
months of winter in qne of the villages that are to be found
in the southern districts of lower Siberia.

At last, the departure was fixed for the 21st of October.
For forty-eight hours a misty sky had been melting into
snow. An immense white sheet gave the vast ice-field a
uniform surface. ‘The fishermen affirmed their belief that
the strait was one mass of ice from shore to shore.

Indeed evident proofs of the fact were soon forthcoming.
Several traders arrived from Numana port, and their jour-
ney across had been effected without obstacles or dangers.

Moreover, on the 19th, Mr. Sergius was told that two of
the Russian agents who were at Port Clarence would not
wait any longer to go to the Siberian shore, and had started
that very morning, intending to halt at the Isle of Diomede
and pursue their journey the following day.

Which led to this remark of Cascabel’s:

“Here are two fellows who were in a greater hurry than
we are! Why, they might, surely, have waited for us!
We'd have kept each other company on the road!”’

Then he said to himself, that, very likely, the officials had
been afraid to be delayed, if they kept on with the Fazr
Rambler, for she could not sail many knots an hour on that
layer of snow.

As a matter of fact, although Vermont and Gladiator had
been rough-shod, it would take the wagon several days to
reach the opposite shore, taking into account the rest at the
central island.

In reality, if the agents had preferred to start before

‘AT SUNRISE.”—Page 177.

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1 Tal

FAREWELL TO THE NEW CONTINENT. 177

/

Count Narkine, it was, of course, to be able to take all the
necessary measures for his arrest.

It had been decided they would start at sunrise. The
few hours of light that the sun still gave should be availed
of. In six weeks’ time, about the time of the solstice of the
21st of December, continual night would spread over the
countries crossed by the polar circle.

On the eve of the departure, a ‘‘tea,’’ offered by Mr.
and Mrs. Cascabel, gathered together, under a shed appro-
priated to the occasion, the notables of Port Clarence, both
officials and fishermen, as well as several Eskimo chiefs who
had shown some interest in the travelers. The meeting
passed off merrily, and Clovy ‘‘obliged’’ with the funniest
songs in his repertory. Cornelia had brewed a bowl of
burning punch in which, if she had spared the sugar, she
had not spared the brandy. This beverage was all the more
appreciated by the guests, as, on their way home, they were
going to be exposed to a biting cold,—one of those freezing
chills which, during certain winter-nights, seem to come
from the utmost ends of the star-spangled sky.

The Americans drank to France, the French people drank
to America. Then the guests parted after any number of
shake-hands with the Cascabels.

Next day, the two horses were harnessed at eight o'clock
in the morning. ‘The ape, John Bull, had ensconced him-
self in the awning, his nose barely visible through an open-
ing in his fur covering, whilst Wagram and Marengo gam-
boled around the Fazr Rambler. Inside, Cornelia, Napo-
leona, and Kayette had shut themselves up hermetically to
look after their daily work: the “‘house’’ to be cleaned up,
the stove to be seen to, the meals to be prepared. Mr. Ser-
gius, and Mr. Cascabel, John, Sander, and Clovy, some at
the horses’ heads, others going ahead as scouts, were to see
to the safety of the wagon, by avoiding the bad places on

the.“ -road.’’

“f* > .) 1 Rn Poa

Seal Sy.
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178 CAESAR CASCABEL.

At length the signal was given for the start, and simul-
taneously the hurrahs of the population of Port Clarence
broke forth.

The next moment, the wheels of the Fazy Rambler made
the crispy surface of the ice-field crackle.

Mr. Sergius and the Cascabel family had finally left the
land of America.

END OF PART TI.

ee he |

CAISAR CASCABEL.

—_—____ _

Bo PART TT.

nd
.
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CAESAR CASCABEL.

De ed eam

CHAPTER I,
BEHRING STRAIT.

SOMEWHAT narrow pass is this Behring Strait,
£\ through which the sea of the same name communicates
with the Arctic Ocean. It recalls the Strait of Dover be-
tween the British Channel and the North Sea ; it lies in the
same direction, but is three times as wide. Whereas it is
only about twenty miles from Cape Gris-Nez on the French
coast to South Foreland on the English side, a distance of
sixty miles separates Numana from Port Clarence.

It was, therefore, toward the port of Numana, the nearest
point on the Asiatic coast, that the Fair Rambler directed
its course on leaving its last halting place in America.

Naturally, by cutting obliquely across- Behring Sea, Cx-
sar Cascabel would have traveled on a lower parallel and
one considerably below the polar circle. In that case, his
course would have brought him southwest, toward the

island of St. Lawrence, a rather important island, inhabited

by numerous tribes of Eskimos, no less hospitable than the

natives of Port Clarence ; then, on the other side of the Gulf

of Anadyr, the little troupe would have landed at Cape

Navare and thence plunged into the territories of Southern

Siberia, But this would have been lengthening the sea por-
181

182 CESAR CASCABEL. ,

tion, or rather the ice-field portion of the journey, and
therefore exposing the party for a longer period to the dan-
gers of those fields of ice. It may be surmised that the
Cascabels longed to be on land again ; it would have been
inopportune, therefore, to alter in any way their first inten-
tion of going straight toward Numana, barely halting in
the middle of the strait at the isle of Diomede, a spot as
firm on its rocky foundations as any part of the continent,

If Mr. Sergius had been in charge of a vessel, with the
little caravan and its material aboard, he would have adopted
quite another tack. On leaving Port Clarence, he would
have sailed more to the south of Behring Island, which is
greatly frequented for winter-quartering by seals and other
sea mammifers ; thence he would have reached one of the
ports of Kamtchatka, perhaps even Petropaulovski, the
capital of this government. But, for want of a ship, the best
thing to do was to take the shortest cut, the sooner to set
foot on the Asiatic continent.

The Strait of Behring is of no very great depth. Asa
consequence of the rising of the sea bottom, which has
been observed since the ice period, it might even come to
pass in the distant future that Asia and America should
become surface-joined in this spot. ‘This would be the
bridge of Mr. Cascabel’s dreams, or, more correctly, a cause-
way available fortravelers. But, however useful to the latter,
it would be a great bane to seafaring people, and especially
to whalers, as it would shut them out of the Arctic Seas.
Some future De Lesseps would then have to come and cut
through this isthmus and re-establish things in the original
condition. It will be for the descendants of our great-
grandchildren to think about such an eventuality.

The soundings of hydrographers in various portions of
the strait have brought out the fact that the deepest chan-
nel is that which runs along the coast of Asia, near the
Tchuktchi peninsula, There does the cold current from

—— a. ee

HERE AND THERE THE ICEFIELD PRESENTED LARGE CREVICES.—Page 183.

> = —_

BEHRING STRAIT. 183

the north flow, whilst the warm current goes up the shal-

lower half of the strait, next to the American coast.

To the north of this peninsula, near the island of Koli-
utchin in the bay of that name, Nordenskjold’s ship, Za
Vega, was to be ice-bound, twelve years later, for a space of
nine months (September 26, 1878, to July 15, 1879), after
he had discovered the northeast passage.

Well, then, the Cascabels had started on the 21st of Octo-
ber, under fairconditions. It wascold anddry. The snow-
storm had calmed down, the wind had slacked and shifted
slightly to the north. ‘The sky bore one uniform gray tint.
Hardly could the sun be felt from behind that veil of mist
which its rays, weakened by their obliquity, could not suc-
ceed in piercing. At noon, when at its maximum height,
it barely rose a few degrees above the horizon in the south.

A very wise measure had been unanimously agreed on
before leaving Port Clarence: they should not journey when
it was dark. Here and there the ice-field presented large
crevices, and, as it was impossible to avoid them in the
darkness, a catastrophe might have been the result. It was
therefore resolved that as soon as they could see no farther
than a hundred paces ahead, the Fair Rambler would halt.
Better spend a fortnight covering the sixty miles than grope
along blindly when daylight would no longer be sufficient.

The snow had not ceased falling for twenty-four hours,
and had formed a pretty thick carpet, which had become
quite crystallized by the cold. This layer rendered loco-
motion less difficult on the surface of the ice-field. Should
they have no more snow while they crossed the strait, they
would beall right. However, it was to be feared that where
the cold and the warm currents met, flowing in opposite
directions, the bergs thus disturbed in their drifting course
might have got heaped up on each other, and our travelers
might see their road lengthened by various detours.

184 C4ESAR CASCABEL.

.

We have already said that Cornelia, Kayette, and Napo-
leona had taken their places inside the wagon. In orderto
lighten the load as much as possible, the men were to goon
foot.

In accordance with the prearranged marching order,
John scouted, ahead of the party, to reconnoiter the state
of the ice-field ; he might be relied upon. He had a com-
pass with him, and although very accurate landmarks were
a matter of considerable difficulty, he made for the west
with sufficient precision.

At the head of the horses stood Clovy, ready to hold up
or to pick up Vermont and Gladiator in the event of their
stumbling ; but they were rough-shod and steady on their
legs. Besides, the surface was so ievel that there was noth-
ing they could stumble against.

Close to the wagon Mr. Sergius and Cesar Cascabel, with
their wooden winkers before their eyes, and fur-clad from
head to foot like all their companions, walked and chatted
along.

As to young Sander, it would have been hard to assign
any one place to him, or at least to keep him there. He
went and came, and ran and gamboled like the two dogs,
and now and again indulged ina good old slide. Still there
was something wanting to his happiness: his father would
not give him leave to put on his racket-shoes.

“With those skates on,” he would say, “I should run
across the strait in a few hours!”

“And what would be the use of that?” Mr. Cascabel
would reply, “since our horses don’t know how to
skate !”’

“‘T must teach them, some day !”’ answered the youngster,
accompanying his remark with a somersault.

Meanwhile, Cornelia, Kayette, and Napoleona were busy
in the kitchen, and a tiny streak of smoke, of good omen,
came out of the little chimney-pot, Although they did not

ia
y eee ae

BEHRING STRAIT. 155

suffer from the cold, hermetically closed as were their apart-
ments, they should think of those who were outside. And

they did so; for they kept always in.readiness for them a

few cups of warm tea, strengthened with a little of that
Russian “ water of life,” that vodka, which would bring a
dead man back to life again.

As to the horses, they had sufficient food to bring them
to the other side of the strait, thanks to the bundles of
dried grass supplied by the Eskimos of Port Clarence.

Wagram and Marengo seemed quite pleased with the
flesh of the elk, and of that they could have plenty.

Besides, the ice-field was not so bare of game as might be
thought. In their running hither and thither, the two dogs
raised thousands of ptarmigans, guillemots, and other birds
peculiar to the polar regions. These birds, dressed with
care, and rid of their oily taste, are very acceptable eating.

‘But as nothing could have been more useless than shooting

them, since Cornelia’s pantry was amply supplied, it was
agreed that the two sportsmen’s guns should lie quiet
during the journey from Port Clarence to Numana.

Of amphibious animals, seals, and other mammifers so
numerous in these seas, not one was seen during the first
twenty-four hours of the journey.

Bright and cheerful as the first start had been, it was not
long ere Mr. Cascabel and his companions began to feel that
undefinable impression of sadness which seems begotten by
those interminable plains, those endless tracts of whiteness
where the weary eye seeks in vain for the horizon.

By eleven o’clock they were already unable to see the
highest rocks of Port Clarence ; even the lofty head of Cape
Prince of Wales was lost in the gray of the distant mist.
No object was visible more than a mile and a half away,
and, as a consequence, it would be long ere they could
perceive the summit of East Cape on the Choukotsky
peninsula, Still, this height would have been an excellent

156 CAESAR CASCABEL.

landmark for them and would have enabled them to direct
their course accurately.

The Isle of Diomede, lying about midway across the
strait, is marked by no rocky uprisings. As its mass is
hardly raised above the level of the sea, our travelers would
not recognize it until the wheels would crackle by crushing
the layer of snow on its stony soil.

On the whole, with his compass in his hand, John guided
the Fair Rambler without too much trouble, and they pro-
ceeded, if not swiftly, at least safely.

While going along, Mr. Sergius and Czsar Cascabel
would talk of their present situation. ‘This crossing of the
strait, which before starting had seemed so simple a thing
and would appear simpler still when accomplished, forcibly
struck them as very dangerous, now that they had set
about it.

“All the same, it’s a hard job we have attempted!”
Mr. Cascabel would say.

“No doubt,” answered Mr. Sergius. ‘‘ Crossing Behring
Strait with a heavy wagon is an idea that would not have
struck everybody !”’

“JT believe you, Mr. Sergius. Well, what can be done?
When a man has got it into his head to go home, nothing
can stophim! Ah, if it was only a question of going a few
hundred miles through the Far West or through Siberia, I
would not cast a second thought on it. There you walk on
firm ground! There is nochance of the soil gaping under
your feet. While sixty miles on a frozen sea, with a wagon
and horses, a good load and all the rest of it !—My word!
I wish we were the other side! The hardest part, or at
least the most dangerous part of our journey would be
over!”

“Quite so, my dear Cascabel, especially if the Mar Ram-
bler, on the other side of the strait, can get quickly to the
south of Siberia. An attempt to follow the coast line, in

THE Two Docs RAISED THOUSANDS OF Birps.—/Page 185.

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BEHRING STRAIT. 187

the heart of winter, would be too imprudent. So, as soon
as we reach Numana, we must cut toward the southwest
and pick out a good little village for our winter-quarter.”

‘So we shall. You must be acquainted with the country,
Mr. Sergius ?” ;

“Only with that part of it between Yakoutsk and
Okhotsk, which I crossed after my escape. As to the road
leading from Europe to Yakoutsk, all I remember is the
horrible sufferings undergone day and night by the pris-
oners on their journey. What sufferings!—I would not
wish them to my deadliest enemy !”’

“Mr. Sergius, have you given up all hope of returning to
your country, I mean as a free man? Will your govern-
ment never allow you to return?”

“ Not unless the Czar proclaimed an amnesty applying to
Count Narkine and all the patriots sentenced along with
him. Will political circumstances occur that would render
such an eventuality possible? Who knows, my dear Cas-
eanel?)”

“ Well, it must be a sad thing, living in exile! Just as if
a man had been turned out of his own house !”’

“Yes, far from all the loved ones!—And my father,
now so old, that I would love to see again—”

“You shall see him again, Mr. Sergius! Take the word
of an old showman who has often foretold events when
telling people their fortunes. You will make your entry
into Perm along with us! Aren't you one of the Cascabel
artists? By the way, I must teach you a legerdemain trick
or two; it might be useful some day; not to speak of the
trick"we shall play the Russian police, the day we enter the
country under their very noses!”

And Cesar Cascabel could not keep from bursting with
laughter. Only fancy! Count Narkine, a great Russian
nobleman, lifting weights, juggling with bottles, giving the

answers to clowns, and taking in coppers for it !

1838 CAESAR CASCALEL.

About three in the afternoon, the Hazr Rambler had to
stop. Although night had not come yet, a thick mist con-
siderably shortened the distance that the eye could reach.
John returned from his scouting and suggested a halt.
Directing one’s self under these conditions was a matter of
great uncertainty.

Besides, as had been foreseen by Mr. Sergius, in this part
of the strait, furrowed by the channel of the eastern current,
the unevenness of the ice-field, the unequal levels of the ice-
blocks were felt through the snow. The wagon jolted
violently ; the horses stumbled almost at every step; half a
day’s journey had been, sufficient to wear them out with
fatigue.

Six miles, at very most, had our party been able to cover
during this first stage of theirs.

As soon as the horses had come to a stand-still, Cornelia
and Napoleona had alighted, carefully wrapped up from
head to foot on account of the sudden transition from an
indoor temperature of ten degrees above zero to an open-
air temperature of ten degrees below. As to Kayette, ac-
customed to the severity of the Alaskan winter, she little
thought of putting her warm furs on.

“You must cover yourself warmer than that, Kayette,”
said John to her ; “you run achance of catching cold.”

“Oh,” said she, “I am not afraid of cold! We know all
about it in the valley of the Yukon.”

“No matter, Kayette.”’

“John is quite right,’ said Mr. Cascabel, intervening.
“Run in, and put on something warm, my little Kayette.
Besides, I warn you that if you catch cold, it is I will doctor
you up, and that will be terrible. I'll go the length, if nec-
essary, of cutting your head off to make you stop sneezing !”’

In the face of such a threat, there was nothing for the
young girl to do but obey, and she did so.

Then all set about organizing the camping. In truth, it

BEHRING STRAIT. 189

was very simple this time. No wood to cut in the forest
for want of a forest ; no fire to light, for want of fuel: no
grass even to gather for the horses’ food. The Hair Ram-
bler stood there, offering to its guests its usual comfort, its
good temperature, its little couches ready prepared, its
table ready laid, its never-failing hospitality.

All that was required was to provide for Vermont’s and
Gladiator’s meal with a portion of the grass brought from
Port Clarence. ‘This done, the two horses were wrapped up
in thick blankets, and could now enjoy a long rest till the
following day.

Nor did they forget the parrot in his cage, the ape in his
nest, or the two dogs, who seemed so fond of their dried
meat and ate it voraciously.

“Well now, well now!” exclaimed Cascabel, “ this may
be the first time that Frenchmen sat down to such a nice
supper, in the middle of Behring Strait !"’

“That's probable,” answered Mr. Sergius. “ But, before
three or four days, I hope we shall sit at our meals on firm
ground.”

“At Numana ?” inquired Cornelia.

“ Not yet ; on Diomede Island, where we shall make a
stay of aday ortwo. We get on so slowly, it will take us
a week, at least, to reach the coast of Asia.”

When meal was over, although it was only five o’clock in
the evening, nobody declined to retire to rest. A whole
night of a stretch on one’s back, under warm covering, and
on a soft mattress, was not to be despised after the hard-
ships of a tramp on an ice-field. Mr. Cascabel did not even
think it necessary to see to the security of the little camp.
There were no awkward encounters to be dreaded in such
a desert. Besides, the dogs would be a reliable watch, and
would announce the approach of the rovers, should there
be any, who would come near the Fair Rambler.

None the less, Mr. Sergius got up two or three times to

190 CESAR CASCABEL.

observe the state of the ice-field; a sudden change in the
temperature might modify it at any moment ; this was, per-
haps, his greatest anxiety.

There was no change, however, in the appearance of the
weather, and a little northeasterly breeze glided on the
surface of the strait.

The next day, the journey proceeded under the same
conditions; no difficulties to overcome, properly speaking,
but any amount of fatigue to undergo. Six miles had been
traveled over when they halted and made the same arrange-
ments for the night as on the preceding evening.

The following day, October 25, it was not possible to
start before nine in the morning, and, even at that hour, it
was barely daylight.

Mr. Sergius noticed that the cold was less piercing.
Clouds were gathering in disorderly masses on the horizon,
toward the southeast. The thermometer showed a ten-
dency to rise ; weaker atmospherical pressures were begin-
ning to be felt.

“ This is what I don’t care for, John!” said Mr. Sergius.
“ So long as we are on the ice-field, we must not complain
if the cold becomes more intense. Unfortunately, the
barometer is going down and the wind is shifting to the
west. The worst thing we have to dread isa rise in the
temperature. Watch the condition of the ice-field care-
fully, John; do not overlook the slightest sign, and come
back immediately to put us on our guard.”

“Rely on me, Mr. Sergius.”

Of course, from and after the following month on to the
middle of April, the changes of which Mr. Sergius was
afraid could not take place ; the winter would then be per-
manently set in. But as the season had been late this year,
its first period was marked by alternate fits of frost and
of thaw which might cause a partial dislocation of the ice-

BEHRING STRAIT. 191

field. Better would it have been to undergo a temperature
of twenty-five to thirty degrees below zero the whole length
of the journey across the strait.

They started, then, with a kind of half daylight. The
weak rays of the sun were unable to pierce the thick layer
of mist, in their oblique projection. Moreover, the sky
was beginning to get streaked with low and long clouds that
the wind drove swiftly toward the north.

John, right ahead of the party, watched carefully the
layer of snow, which had grown softer since the day before,
and gave way at every step under the feet of the horses.
Still, they were able to cover six miles more in this stage,
and the night passed off without any incident.

The next morning, the 24th, starting time was ten o'clock.
Great was Mr. Sergius’s anxiety when he found a further
rise in the temperature,—quite an anomalous phenomenon
at this time of the year and under this latitude.

It being less cold, Cornelia, Napoleona, and Kayette
wished to foliow on foot, and with their Eskimo boots they
tramped along with comparative ease. All had their eyes
protected with the Indian spectacles already mentioned, and
were getting accustomed to look through the narrow slit.
These winkers always excited Sander’s mirth: he, young
rascal, little thought of the fatigue and skipped about like a
kid in a meadow.

Truly, the wagon made but slow progress. Its wheels
sank into the snow and made it heavier still for the horses
to draw; and when their feily knocked against an acci-
dental protrusion or the rough crest of an ice-block, severe
shocks, which it was impossible to avoid, were the conse-
quences. At times also, huge blocks, heaped up on each
other, absolutely barred the way, and circuitous detours
had to be made to get round them. This was, after all,
only a lengthening of the road, and it was preferable it
should be intercepted with mounds rather than with fissures.

192 CESAR CASCABEL.

Thus, at least, the solidification of the ice-field was not com-
promised.

Meanwhile the thermometer kept on rising and the bar-
ometer falling, slowly but steadily. Mr. Sergius felt more
and more anxious.

A little before noon the women had to return indoors.
The snow began to fall abundantly, in tiny, transparent flakes
that looked as if they would resolve into water. You would
have thought it was a shower of light white featherlets that
thousands of birds might have shaken off throughout the
space.

Cesar Cascabel suggested that Mr. Sergius should seek
shelter in the Fazr Rambler; the latter declined ; could he
not put up with what his companions endured ?

As a matter of fact, this fall of snow alarmed him to the
greatest extent ; melting as it did, it would eventually un-
solder the ice-field. It was a necessity to seek a refuge as
fast as possible on the unshakable foundations of Diomede
Island.

And yet, prudence made it imperative to proceed with
the utmost caution. So, Mr. Sergius determined to scout
ahead with John, whilst Mr. Cascabel and Clovy walked by
the horses’ heads ; the poor brutes missed their footing
every moment, and, should an accident happen to the
wagon, there would be no alternative but to abandon it in
the middle of the frozen sea,—which would have-been an
irretrievable loss.

While plodding onward with John, Mr. Sergius did his
utmost with his glass to pierce the western horizon ren-
dered a still more confused mass by the snow-storm. The
eye could reach but a very short distance; their guiding
was now mere guess-work, and Mr. Sergius would certainly
have ordered a halt if the solidity of the field had not
seemed to him very seriously endangered.

“ At any cost,” said he, ‘we must reach Diomede Isle

BEHRING STRAIT. 193

this day, even though we had to stop there till the cold sets
in again.”

“How far do you think we are still?” asked John.

“ Four or five miles, John. As we have another couple
of hours’ daylight, or at least that kind of half-light which
enables us to see where we are going, let us do all we can
to arrive before it is quite dark.”

“Mr. Sergius, would you like me to go on ahead and
reconnoiter the situation of the island?”’

“ No, John, by no means! You would run the chance
of losing your way in the storm, and that would be quite
another complication! Let us try to go by the compass,
for, should we pass above or below the island, I know not
what would become of us.”

“Hark, sir, do you hear?” cried John, who had been
stooping.

Mr. Sergius did the same and was able to observe that
indistinct crackling sounds, like those of glass which is being
chipped, were running through the ice-field. Was this the
sign of at least a partial disintegration, if not of the complete
breaking up of the ice? As yet no crevice starred the sur-
face as far as the eye could see.

The situation had become extremely dangerous. Spend-
ing the night in these conditions, our travelers might be the
victims of a catastrophe. Diomede Island was the only
refuge held out to them, and they should reach it at any
price.

How Mr. Sergius must have regretted he had not waited
a few days longer, patiently, at Port Clarence!

John and he came back to the wagon, and Mr. Cascabel
was acquainted with the state of things. ‘There was no oc-
casion to tell the women about it ; they would have been
needlessly frightened. It was therefore agreed they should
be left inside the vehicle, and the men began to tug at the
wheels to help the broken-down horses ; they scarce could

194 CAESAR CASCABEL.

stand on their lamed feet ; their coats reeked with sweat
under the frozen breeze.

About two o'clock, the downpour of snow lessened sen-
sibly, and was shortly reduced toa few scattered flakes that
the wind whirled about inthe air. It then became less diffi-
cult to keep in the right direction. The horses were urged
on vigorously, determined as Mr. Sergius was that there
should be no halting until the Hazr Rambler stood on the
rocks of Diomede Island.

From his calculations, it should now be no farther than a
mile or two away, and by making one last effort they might
get there perhaps within an hour’s time.

Unfortunately, the light, already so uncertain, soon grew
weaker and weaker, and became at last nothing more than a
faint reverberation. Were they on the right track or on the
wrong? Might they goon in the same direction? How
could they tell?

Just then the two dogs barked loudly. Was this the
approach of a danger? Had the dogs scented a band of
Eskimos or of Tchuktchis on the tramp across the strait ?

Should it be so, Mr. Sergius would not hesitate to ask their

aid, or, at least, he would try to ascertain from them the
exact position of the island.

Meanwhile, one of the little windows of the wagon had
been opened, and Cornelia was heard inquiring why Wagram
and Marengo were barking in that manner.

She was told that they did not know yet, but that there
was no cause for alarm.

“Must we get out ?”’ she added.

“ No, Cornelia,” answered Mr. Cascabel. ‘ You and the
lassies are comfortable where you are. Stay there!”

“But if the dogs have scented some animal or another,
a bear for instance,—”’

“ Well, they will let us know! As to that, have the guns
ready. But meanwhile, no getting out without leave!”

BEHRING STRAIT. 195

“Close your window, Mrs. Cascabel,” said Mr. Sergius.
“We have not one minute to lose. We are off again this
very moment.”

And the horses, that had been stopped at the first bark-
ing of the dogs, resumed their laberious toiling onward.

For half an hour the Fair Rambler was able to move
somewhat quicker, the surface of the ice-field being less
tough. The worn-out steeds, with downcast heads and
trembling legs, still pulled away with noble spirit. But
this was evidently a supreme effort on their part, and they
would surely break down if it had to be kept up much
longer.

It was almost night. The remnant of light diffused

through space seemed to come rather from the surface of

the field than from the brightness of the upper zones.

And the two dogs still kept on their barking, running
forward, standing still with their noses up in the air and
every muscle in their bodies stiffened, then returning to
their masters. ‘

“There is surely something extraordinary !”’ observed
Mr. Cascabel.

“ There is the Isle of Diomede !"" exclaimed John.

And so saying, he pointed to a heap of rocks, the round
back of which could be seen confusedly a few hundred
paces away to the west.

What gave some likelihood to John’s guess was that the
rocky mass seemed marked with black spots, the color of -
which came out in relief on the whiteness of the ice.

“Yes, it must be the island,” said Mr. Sergius.

« Why! don’t I see those black spots moving?” cried
Mr, Cascabel.

“ Moving ?”’

Ofcourse.’

“That must be just a few thousand seals that have
sought a refuge on the island—”

196 C4SAR CASCABEL,

“ A few thousand seals !’’ repeated Cascabel.

“ Goodness gracious, boss!” exclaimed Clovy, “if we
could only catch them and show them at the fair!”

“ And if they could all say papa !” added Sander.

Was not this the heart’ cry of a young showman!

CHAPTER II.
BETWEEN TWO CURRENTS.

T last the Fair Rambler was on firm ground ; no break-
A ing up of the ice-field need longer be apprehended
under its wheels; it is easy to surmise how much this boon
was appreciated by the Cascabels.

It was quite dark by this time. The same arrangements
were made as the preceding night for the camping, a few
hundred paces inside the island ; then both the “ intellectual
people and the others,” as Czsar Cascabel used to say,
were duly looked after.

Indeed, relatively speaking, it was not cold. The ther-
mometer recorded no more than four degrees below zero.
It little mattered, besides. As long as they remained here
they had nothing to fear from a rise in the temperature.
Should it occur, they would wait until a more considerable
fall had thoroughly set the ice-field. Winter inall its severity
could not be far off.

There being no light, Mr. Sergius put off to the following
day the exploration he wished to make of the island. The
chief object they first gave their best attention to was the
night encampment of the horses, who needed a good sup-
per and a good rest, for they were literally worn out.
Then, when the table was laid, the meal was hastily dis-
patched, eager as each one was to seek the comfort of his
couch after such a hard day’s toil.

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BETWEEN TWO CURRENTS. 197

The consequence was that the Fair Rambler was soon
buried in sleep, and, that night, Cornelia dreamed neither
of a sudden thaw nor yet of yawning gulfs swallowing up
her home on wheels.

The next morning, the 25th of October, as soon as day-
light was sufficient, Mr. Sergius, Caesar Cascabel, and his
two sons went and reconnoitered the state of the island.

What surprised them from the first was the incredible
number of otaries that had taken refuge on it.

As a matter of fact, it is in this portion of Behring Sea,
bounded to the south by the fiftieth degree of northerly lati-
tude, that these animals are found in largest quantities.

On examining the map one cannot but be struck with the
outline presented by the coast of America and by that of
Asia, and especially with the resemblance they bear each
other. On both sides the same figure is pretty clearly de-
fined : Cape Prince of Wales is the counterpart of the Tchu-
tchki peninsula, Norton Bay corresponds to the gulf of
Anadyr, the extremity of the Alaskan peninsula is curved
in the same way as the peninsula of Kamtchatka, and the
whole is inclosed by the chainlet of the Aleutian Islands.
It cannot, however, be conciuded therefrom that America
was abruptly severed from Asia, and Behring Strait opened
‘by some terrestrial convulsion in prehistoric times, for the
salient angles of one coast do not correspond with the
internal angles of the other.

Numerous islands, too, in these parts: the Isle of St.
Lawrence, already named ; Nunivak Island, on the Amert-
can coast; Karaghinski, on the Asiatic side; Behring
Island with Copper Isle by its side, and, within a short dis-
tance of the Alaskan shore, Pribylov Islands. The re-
semblance of the coasts is then increased by the identical
arrangement of the archipelago.

Now, these Pribylov Islands and Behring Island are in a
special manner‘the favorite residences of the colonies of

198 CAESAR CASCABEL.

seals that frequent these seas. ‘They could be reckoned by
millions here ; and, naturally, it is here that professional
hunters come, not only for the otaries but for the sea loutra
so common less than fifty years ago and now made scarce
by wholesale destruction.

As to the otaries,—a generic name comprising the sea-
lions, the sea-cows, the sea-bears,—they collect here in
numberless flocks, and their race seems inexhaustible.

And still what a relentless hunt is carried on after them
as long as the warm seasons last! Without respite, without
mercy, the fishermen pursue them into their very “ rook-
eries,” kinds of parks where the families gather together.
It is the full-grown otaries especially that are pitilessly

tracked, and these animals would eventually disappear, were ©

it not for their extraordinary fecundity.

Asa fact, from the year 1867 tothe year 1880, 388,982
otaries were destroyed in the reserved parks of Behr-
ing Island alone. On Pribylov Islands, in the course of a
century, no fewer than 3,500,000 skins have been got to-
gether by the Alaskan fishermen, and at the present time
they do not supply less than a hundred thousand a year to
the trade. .

And how many there are on the other islands of Behring
Sea, Mr. Sergius and his companions were in a position to
estimate from what they saw on Diomede Island. The soil
disappeared from view under a swarm of seals packed
together in close groups, and nothing could be seen of the
carpet of snow on which they lay so securely.

Meanwhile, if they were the object of a curious survey,
they, too, examined the visitors of the island. Without
stirring, but apparently uneasy, annoyed, perhaps, at this
taking of possession of their domain, they made no attempt
at running away, and sometimes uttered akind of prolonged
bellowing in which a note of anger was clearly discernible.
Then standing erect, they would give their paws, or rather

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Page 203.

EBT'WEEN TWO CURRENTS. 199

their fins, spread out like so many fans, a violent shaking to
and fro.

Ah! if these thousands of seals had been endowed with
the gift of speech, according to young Sander’s wish, what
a thunder of “papas” would have come out of their
mouths !

Needless to say that neither Mr. Sergius nor John thought
of firing on this legionof animals. Yet, there was afortune
of “peltry on foot” there before them, as Cascabel put it.
But it would have been a useless, as well as a dangerous
slaughter. Formidable as they were by their number alone,
the seals might have greatly endangered the position of the
fair Rambler; hence Mr. Sergius recommended the great-
est caution.

And now, was not the presence of these seals on Diomede
Island a sign which it was right not to neglect? Were it
not prudent to consider why they had thus sought a refuge
on this heap of rocks, which offered them no resources.

This was the subject of a very serious discussion, in
which Mr. Sergius, Czesar Cascabel, and his eldest son took
part. They had walked on toward the central part of the
island, while the women looked after household matters,
and Clovy and Sander were busy with the “ animal ele-
ment ” of the troupe.

Mr. Sergius was the first to broach the question :

“ My friends,” said he, “we must consider whether it
would not be better to leave Diomede Island, as soon as the
horses are rested, than to prolong our stay.”

“Mr. Sergius,” eagerly replied Cascabel, “I am of
opinion we should not tarry here, playing the ‘ Swiss Robin-
son family’ on this rock! I confess it, I am longing to
feel-a bit of the Siberian coast under my heel.”

“T understand that, father,” answered John, “ and yet, it
would not be right to go and expose ourselves again as we
did when we so impatiently started across the strait. But

od

200 CAESAR CASCABEL.

for this island, what would have become of us? Numana
is still some thirty miles away from us—”

“Well, John, with a good pull and a strong pull, we
might cover that distance in two or three stages, perhaps.”

“Jt would be hard to do so, even if the state of the ice-
field permitted it.”

“Tthink John is right,” observed Mr. Sergius. “ That
we should be in.a hurry to be on the other side of the strait
is but natural. But seeing how much milder the tempera-
ture has become, it seems to me it would hardly be prudent
to leave terra firma. We left Port Clarence too soon ; let
us try and not leave this island too hastily. What we may
be sure of is that the strait is not completely frozen over its
whole surface.”

“Where do those crackling sounds come from, which I
heard even as late as yesterday?” added John. “ Evi-
dently they are due to the insufficient cohesion of the ice-
blocks.”

“ That is one proof,” rejoined Mr. Sergius ; “ and there is
one other.”

“Which?” inquired John.

“ One which seems to me of equal importance : it is the
presence of these thousands of seals that have instinctively
invaded this island. No doubt, after leaving the upper
regions of the sea, these animals were making their way
toward Behring Island or the Aleutian Islands, when they
foresaw some imminent atmospheric disturbance, and felt
they should not remain onthe ice-field. Are we on the eve
of a breaking up of the ice-field under the influence of the
temperature or through some submarine phenomenon? I
know not. But, if we are in a hurry to reach the Siberian
coast, these creatures are not less anxious to reach their
rookeries on Behring Island or Pribylov Islands, and as
they halted here, they must have had very good reasons for
doing so,”

SFE on a Ca er .
ah
Sw he 4

.
BETWEEN TWO CURRENTS. 201

“Well then, what do you advise, Mr. Sergius?” asked
Mr. Cascabel.

“My advice is that we should stay here until the seals
show us, by starting off themselves, that we may resume
our journey without danger.”

“ That’s awkward, and no mistake!’

“Tt is not as bad as it might be, father,” said John ;
“may we never have worse to put up with!”

“ Besides, this cannot last. very long,” continued Mr. Ser-
gius. “Let the winter be ever so late this year, here is the
end of October coming on, and although the thermometer,
at this very moment, is only at zero, it may fall some twenty
degrees from one day to another. If the wind happens to
shift to the north, the ice-field will be as solid as a conti-
nent. I propose then, after due consideration, that we wait,
if nothing compels us to go.”

This was prudent, to say the least. And so it was agreed
that the Fair Rambler should stay on Diomede Island, as
long as the safety of her journey across would not be
assured by an intense frost.

Throughout this day, Mr. Sergius and John partly sur-
veyed the granite rock that offered them such security.
The islet measured less than three miles in circumference.
Even in summer it must have been literally barren. A
heap of rocks, nothing more. None the less, it would have
been able to support the pier of the famous Behring bridge,
wished for by Mrs. Cascabel, in the event of the Russian and
American engineers ever, thinking of joining two conti-
nents,—contrary to what Mr. Lesseps is so fond of
doing.

In the course of their ramble, the visitors took good care
not to frighten the seals. And still, it was evident that the
presence of human beings kept these animals in a singular
state of excitement. ‘There were huge males, whose hoarse
cries sounded like an alarm for the members of their fam-

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202 CAESAR CASCABEL.

ilies, and in a moment one sire would be seen surrounded
by forty or fifty of his full-grown offspring.

These unfriendly dispositions could not but cause some
anxiety to Mr. Sergius, especially when he noticed a cer-
tain tendency on the part of the seals to move nearer and
nearer toward the encampment. ‘Taken individually they
were not formidable, of course; but it would be difficult,
nay impossible, to resist such enormous masses if they ever
resolved on driving off the intruders, who did not leave
them the sole and exclusive possession of Diomede
Island. John, too, was greatly struck with this peculi-
arity, and both Mr. Sergius and he came home somewhat
alarmed.

The day passed off without incidents, save that the
breeze, which blew from the southeast, turned to squalls.
Evidently some big storm was brewing, one of those Arctic
tempests, perhaps, which last for several days ; an extra-
ordinary fall of the barometer left no doubt on this point ;
it had gone down seventy-two centimeters.

The approach of the night was full of ill-omens therefore.
And, to add further to them, as soon as the travelers had
taken their places inside the Fazr Rambler, howls, on the
nature of which there was no mistake to make, increased the
roar of the elements. The seals had shuffled their way close
to the vehicle ; presently it would be overborne by them.
The horses neighed with fright, dreading an attack from
this unknown foe, against which Wagram and Marengo
barked in vain. ‘The men had to get out of bed, rush out
and bring Vermont and Gladiator nearer to the wagon, to
watch over them. The revolvers and the guns were loaded.
However, Mr. Sergius recommended that they should not
be used till the very last extremity.

The night was dark. As nothing could be distinguished
in the intense obscurity, torches had to be lit. Their fitful
rays enabled them to see thousands of seals arrayed around

THE STORM BROKE OUT WITH GREATER FURY

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BETWEEN TWO CURRENTS. 203

the Fair Rambler and doubtless only waiting for daylight
to attack it.

“If they attack us, resistance will be a matter of impos-
sibility,” said Mr. Sergius, ‘‘and we should run the risk of
being overwhelmed !”

“What are we to do then?” asked John,

“We must start off!”

“ When ?”’ inquired Cascabel.

“ This very moment !”

Was Mr. Sergius right in his resolve to leave the island,
great though the danger was which gloomed ahead?
Surely, it was the only thing to be done. Very probably
the only object the seals had in view was to drive away the
intruders who had invaded their domain, and they would
not trouble to pursue them beyond its limits on to the field
of ice. As to scattering these animals by force, an attempt
would have been more than imprudent. What could guns
and revolvers do against their thousands ?

The horses were put to, the women re-entered their
apartments, the men, ready on the defensive, stood by each
side of the wagon, and the journey westward was resumed.

So foggy was the night that the torches cast their light
scarcely twenty paces ahead. At the same time the storm
broke out with greater fury. - It did not snow; the flakes

‘fluttering in the air were those that the wind lashed off

the surface of the ice-field.

With all this, had the solidification but been complete!
Unfortunately, it was far from it. You could feel the
blocks getting severed from each other with long, crack-
ling sounds. Now and again fissures would gape and send
up sheaves of sea water.

Mr. Sergius and his companions went on thus for an hour,
afraid every moment to see the ice-field breaking up under
their feet. Keeping in one direction became impracticable,
and yet John endeavored to guide himself somehow on the

204 CESAR CASCABEL.

needle of the compass. Luckily, this tramp toward the
west differed from their journeying toward Diomede Island,
which they might easily have passed by, either too far
south or too far north, without recognizing it ; the Siberian
coast lay for a distance of some thirty miles on three-
fourths of the horizon, and they could not miss it.

But they should manage to get there first, and the chief
condition of their doing so was that the fair Rambler
should not go to the bottom of Behring Sea.

Meanwhile, if this danger was the most formidable, it
was not the only one. At every moment, caught on the
flank by the southeasterly wind, the wagon ran the risk of
being upset. By way of precaution, Cornelia, Napoleona,
and Kayette had been made to alight, and it required all
the efforts of Mr. Sergius, Cascabel, John, Sander, and
Clovy, tugging at the wheels, to keep the Fair Rambler
erect against the blast. Needless to tell what little head-
way was made by the horses under these conditions, when
they felt the ground continually yielding under their
feet.

About half-past five o’clock in the morning,—the 26th of
October,—in the midst of the very deepest obscurity, the
vehicle was compelled to stop ; the horses could not go a
step further. The surface of the field, upheaved by the swell
driven by the squall from the flower regions of Behring Sea,
now presented a series of various levels.

“What are we to do?” said John.

“We must go back to the island!” exclaimed Cornelia,
who was unable to appease Napoleona’s terror.

“That’s out of the question now!” replied Mr. Sergius.

“Why so?” inquired Mr. Cascabel. ‘“ Of the two I
would still rather fight seals than—”

“T tell you again we must not think of returning to the
island!” repeated Mr. Sergius. ‘ We should have to go
against the squall, and the wagon could not stand it, It

THE Two UNFORTUNATE STEEDS HAD DISAPPEARED.—/ 2

BETWEEN TWO CURRENTS. 205

would be smashed to pieces, if, indeed, it did not run away
before the wind.”

“So long as we are not obliged to abandon it!” sighed
John.

“Abandon it!” cried Cascabel. “ And what would be-
come of us without our Facr Rambler?”

“We shall do our very utmost not to be reduced to that
extremity,” answered Mr. Sergius; “weshall! That wagon
is our plank of salvation, and we shall endeavor to keep it
at any price.”

“So, it is not possible to go back?” urged Cascabel.

“It is absolutely impossible ; and we must keep on going
ahead!” was the reply. “Let us be brave-hearted, keep
a cool head, and surely we shall reach Numana !"

These words seemed to brace up the travelers. It was
but too evident that the wind forbade their returning to
Diomede Island. It blew from the southeast with such
violence that neither cattle nor men could have walked
against it. The Fac Rambler itself could no longer remain
stationary. The merest attempt to make it resist the dis-
placement of the air would have toppled it over.

About ten o'clock, daylight became half apparent,—a
pale, misty light. The clouds, low and ragged, seemed to

drag shreds of vapor after them and madly lash them about,

across the strait. In the whirlwind of snow, small chips of
ice, dashed off the field by the blast, flew by like a veritable
volley of small shot. In such circumstances, one hour and
a half was spent in covering little more than a mile, for
they had, in addition, to avoid the pools of water and turn
round the mounds of ice heaped upon their way. Under-
neath, the swell from the high sea caused sudden oscilla-
tions and a kind of billowy motion, accompanied by continu-
ous crackling noises.

Suddenly, about a quarter to one o'clock, a violent shock
was felt. A network of fissures radiated over the field

206 CAESAR CASCABEL.

around the vehicle. A crevice, measuring thirty feet in
diameter, had just yawned beneath the feet of the horses,

At a shout from Mr. Sergius, his companions stopped
short within a few paces of the abyss.

“Our horses! Our horses!’ cried John. ‘“ Father, let
us save the horses!”

It was too late. The ice had given way. The two un-
fortunate steeds had just disappeared. Had not the traces
snapped, the azr Rambler too would have been drawn into
the depths of the sea.

“Our poor horses !’”’ cried Cascabel, in despair.

Alas ! those old friends of the showman’s, who had gone
the world over with him, those faithful companions, who had
so long shared his roaming life, were buried in the deep.
Big tears burst from the eyes of Mr. Cascabel, his wife, and
his children.

“ Back! Quick, back with it!” Mr. Sergius called out.

And by dint of pushing and striving, they succeeded, not
without trouble, in moving the wagon away from the crevice,
which was getting wider as the oscillations of the ice-field
increased ; and they let it stand some twenty feet inside the
circle of dislocation.

The situation was none the less greatly compromised.
What were they to do now? Abandon the Fair Rambler in
the middle of the strait, then come back and fetch it with a
team of reindeer from Numana? It seemed as though
there was no other course to follow.

Suddenly John cried out :

“Mr. Sergius! Mr. Sergius! Look, sir!—We are
drifting !—”

“ Drifting ?”

It was but too true! Nota doubt of it now; a general
breaking up had just set all the ice in motion between the
two banks of the strait.

The repeated shocks of the storm, added to the rise in .

si at oe

BETWEEN TWO CURRENTS. 207

the temperature, had split up the field insufficiently cemented
in its middle part. Wide gaps had been opened in the
north by the displacing of the blocks, some of which had
slid up on the ice-field and others underneath it. This
enabled the floating ice-island which bore the vehicle to
drift at the willof the hurricane. A few bergs had remained
stationary, and Mr. Sergius, using them as landmarks, was
able to make out the direction of the drift.

The reader sees how alarming the situation now was,
jeopardized as it had already been by the loss of the horses.
There was now no possibility of reaching Numana, even
after abandoning the wagon. They would now be con-
fronted no longer by crevices that they might avoid by a
detour, but by numerous gaps, which there was no means
of getting over, and the direction of which shifted about
according to the caprice of the swell. And as to the block
that conveyed the Fair Rambler, and whose course could
not possibly be controlled, how long would it withstand the
shock of the billows that dashed against its sides ?

No! There was nothing to be done! To dream of
directing the floating berg, so as to bring it on to the Si-
berian coast, were above the power of man. Move about
thus it would until some obstacle would stop it ; and who
knows if that obstacle would not be the frozen shore of the
polar sea !

About two o’clock in the afternoon, thanks to the in-
creased darkness caused by the spreading fog, the eye was
already unable to pierce beyond a very short radius.

Sheltered as best they could, and turned toward the
north, Mr. Sergius and his companions stood in mournful
siience. What could they have said, since there was noth-
ing to be even attempted? Cornelia, Kayetté, and Napo-
leona, wrapped in blankets, kept closely pressed against each
other. Young Sander, more surprised than alarmed,
whistled a tune. Clovy busied himself tidying up the va-

208 CESAR CASCABEL.

rious things that had been knocked out of place in the
wagon by the shock it had received.

If Mr. Sergius and John had kept cool-headed, the same
could not be said of Mr. Cascabel, who blamed himself for
having brought all his people into this frightful adventure.

However, it was of importance, first of all, to have a
right idea of the situation.

It has not been forgotten that two currents cross each
other in Behring Strait. One comes down to the south, the
other flows up toward the north. The former is the Kam-
tchatka current, the latter the Behring. If the berg loaded
with the staff and the material of the air Rambler got into
the first current, it would of necessity retrace its course,
and there were chances of its landing on the Siberian coast.
If, on the contrary, it was drawn into the second, it would
float in the direction of the Ice Sea, where no continent or
group of islands could stop it.

Unfortunately, as the hurricane grew wilder, it shifted
nearer and nearer tothe south. Into the depths of that
funnel formed by the strait the air was engulfed with a vio-
lence which can hardly be imagined, and little by little the
wind altered its first direction.

This Mr. Sergius and John had been able to ascertain,
and they saw they were losing all chance of being caught by
the Kamtchatka current. Checked with the compass, the
drift was found to incline toward the north. Might they
hope that the berg would be carried to the peninsula of the
Prince of Wales on the Alaskan coast, in sight of Port
Clarence? This would have been a truly providential ter-
mination of the eventualities of this helpless drift. But the
strait widens at so great an angle between East Cape and
Cape Prince of Wales that no prudent man would have in-
dulged such a hope.

Meanwhile, the state of things on the surface of the ice-
berg was becoming almost unbearable ; no one could keep

i
.
ALIS \

SUA
“ea

i |

ENDLESS Hours PASSED BY THUS.—Page 209.

BETWEEN TWO. CURRENTS. 209

on his feet, so wildly did the storm rage. John would fain
go and examine the sea from the fore part of the block, and
was thrown down ; indeed, but for Mr. Sergius, he would
have been hurled into the waves.

What a night was spent by these ill-fated people,—these
shipwrecked wanderers, we may say, for there they were,
like the survivors of a wreck. What continual anguish!
Huge icebergs would come sometimes and knock against
their floating islet with such crashes and shocks as to
threaten its smashing to pieces. Then heavy seas would
roll over its surface and submerge it as though it were
doomed to be swallowed up in the abyss. They were all
soaked with those cold douches which the wind pulverized
over their heads. The only way to avoid them would have
been to get back into the wagon ; but it shook so under the
blast that neither Mr. Sergius nor Cascabel dared advise
their companions to shelter themselves in it.

Endless hours passed by thus. The gaps became wider
and wider, the drifting was more free, the shocks were less
frequent. Had the block got into the narrow portion of the
strait that opens out, several miles farther, into the ice sea?
Had it reached the regions lying above the polar circle?
Had the Behring current finally overcome the Kamtchatka
current? In that case, if the American coast did not stop
the berg, was there no cause to fear that it would be carried
on and on, to the Arctic ice-field ?

How slow was the daylight in coming !—that light which
would enable them to ascertain their position. The poor
women prayed. Their deliverance could now come but
from God.

Daylight appeared at last; it was the 27th of October.
No sign of acalm in the atmospherical disturbances ; the
fury of the storm seemed even to increase with the rising
of the sun.

Mr. Sergius and John, compass in hand, searched the

210 CAESAR CASCABEL

horizon. In vain did they endeavor to descry some high
land toward the east and the west.

It was but too evident, their iceberg was following a
northerly course under the impulse of the Behring current.

As may be imagined, this storm had caused the greatest
anxiety to the inhabitants of Port Clarence concerning the
fate of the Cascabels. But how could they have brought
help to them, since the breaking up of the ice stopped
all communication between the two shores of the strait ?

There was anxiety, too, at Numana, where the two
Russian agents had announced the departure of the Fazr
Rambler, although the feelings they experienced for its
occupants did not spring from sympathy. They had been
awaiting Count Narkine on the Siberian coast, as we have
said, in the well-grounded hope of capturing him; and
now there was every appearance of his having perished in
this disaster, along with the whole Cascabel family.

There was no doubt left in their minds about this when,
three days later, the corpses of two horses were washed
ashore by the current, in a little creek on the coast. They
were those of Vermont and Gladiator, the only horses pos-
sessed by the show people.

“’Pon my word,” said one of the agents, “ it was a good
thing we came across before our friends !”

“Yes,”’ replied the other, “but the sad part of it is to
have missed such a splendid job!”

CHAPTER
ADRIFT.

HE reader now knows what the position of our ship-
wrecked party was on the date of the 27th of October.
Could they have deluded themselves respecting their fate

ADRIFT. 211

or preserved the faintest hope?~ Adrift through Behring
Strait, their last chance had been to get into the southern
current and be brought to the Asiatic coast; and it was
the northern stream that was bearing them away to the
open.

When shifting about in the Polar Sea, what would become
of their berg, on the supposition that it would not dissolve,
that it would resist all the shocks it would receive ? Would
it get aground on some Arctic land? Driven fora few
hundred leagues by the east winds that were then pre-
dominant, would it not be cast on the shores of Spitzberg
or Nova Zembla? In this case, even though at the price
of untold fatigues, would the wanderers succeed in reaching
the continent ?

Mr. Sergius was weighing the consequences of this last
hypothesis, and talked about it with Mr. Cascabel and John
while scanning the fog-shrouded horizon.

“My friends,” he said, “we are evidently in a great
peril, since this berg may break up at anymoment ; and on
the other hand there is no possibility of our leaving it.”

“Is that the greatest danger we are threatened with ?”’
asked Mr. Cascabel.

“For the time being, it is. But when the weather gets
cold again, this danger will diminish and eventually disap-
pear, even. Now, at this time of the year and in this
latitude, the present rise in the temperature cannot possibly
last beyond a few days.”

“You are right, Mr. Sergius,” said John. “ But in the
event of this ice-block keeping intact, where will it go?”

“Tn my opinion, it cannot go very far, and it will soon
adhere to some ice-field. Then, as soon as the sea is
thoroughly frozen over, we shall try to get back to the con-
tinent and resume our old itinerary.”

« And what shall we do, now that our horses are gone?”
exclaimed Mr. Cascabel. ‘ Ah, my poor horses ! my poor

212 CESAR CASCABEL.

horses !—Mr. Sergius, those noble things! they were like
two of our own selves! and it is all through my fault !”

Cascabel could not be consoled. His heart overflowed.
He blamed himself for being the cause of this catastrophe.
Horses crossing a sea on foot! Who had ever heard of
such an idea ?>—And he thought more of the old steeds than
of the inconvenience their loss would entail.

“Yes, in the conditions we are in, owing to this thaw,
that is an irretrievable misfortune,” said Mr. Sergius.
“ That we men should put up with the privations and the
fatigues resulting from this loss, goes for nothing. But
what will Mrs. Cascabel do, what will Kayette and Napo-
leona do, who are but children yet, when we have aban-
doned the Fazr Rambler—”

“ Abandon it !”’ exclaimed Cascabel.

‘‘ We shall have to do so, father !”

“ Verily,” exclaimed Mr. Cascabel, threatening himself
with his own fist, “it was tempting Providence to under-
take such a journey !—Following such a road to return to
Europe !.”

“Do not break down in such a way, my friend,” replied
Mr. Sergius. ‘ Let us face danger without flinching. It
is the surest way to overcome it!”

“Come, father,” John added, “ what is done cannot be
undone, and we all agreed that it should be done. Do not
blame yourself alone, then, for lack of caution, and recover
your old pluck !”’

But despite all these encouragements Mr. Cascabel felt
crushed ; his self-reliance, his innaté philosophy, had re-
ceived a severe blow.

Meanwhile Mr. Sergius used all the means at his dis-
posal, his mariner’s compass, certain landmarks he fancied _
he had fixed, and what not, so as to ascertain the direc-
tion of the current. Indeed it was at these observations
that he spent the few hours during which daylight some-

a eS

.

‘RY OF THE MAN ON GUARD . . .—/age 215.

FIRST

THE

ON

ADRIFT. 213

v : ‘ : ;
- what brightens up the horizon in this latitude. Nor was it

an easy task when the landmarks were forever changing,

Beyond the strait the sea seemed to be free for a consid.
erable distance. Evidently, with this anomalous tempera-
ture, the Arctic ice-field had never been completely formed,
If it had appeared to be so for a few days, it is because the
blocks of ice traveling north or south under the influence
of the two currents had met together in this narrow por-
tion of the sea between the two continents,

As the result of his manifold calculations, Mr. Sergius
thought himself justified in stating that the course they
were following was sensibly northwest. This was doubtless
due to the fact that the Behring current, hugging the
Siberian coast after having repelled the Kamtchatka cur-
rent, was describing, as it got out of Behring Strait, a
wide curve, subtended by the parallel of the polar circle.

At the same time, Mr. Sergius was able to ascertain that
the wind, still very violent, blew straight from the south-
east. Just for a moment it had veered to the south ; that
was due to the lay of the coasts on each side; now in the
open sea, it had resumed its former direction.

As soon as this state of things had been discovered, Mr.
Sergius returned to Cesar Cascabel and straightway told
him that under the circumstances nothing more fortunate
could have happened. This good item of news restored a
little peace of mind to the head of the family.

“Yes,” he said, “it is a lucky thing we are going in the
very direction we wanted to go !—But, what a round we
shall have made! Gracious goodness, what a round!”

Thereupon our friends set about making the best pos-
sible arrangements, as if their stay on the drifting islet was
to be of long duration. First of all, it was decided they
should continue to dwell inside the “arr Rambler, less* ex-
posed as it now was to be thrown on its side, since they
were traveling with the wind.

214 CESAR CASCABEL,

Cornelia, Kayette, and Napoleona could now return to
their household work, and see to the cwzstme, which had
been absolutely neglected for the past twenty-four hours.
The meal was soon prepared, they sat to table, and if this
dinner was not seasoned with the gay conversation of
former days, it at least revived the guests who had been so
sorely tried since their departure from Diomede Island.

The day closed in these conditions. The squalls kept
up with unabated violence. The air now swarmed with
birds, petrels, ptarmigans, and others, so justly named the
harbingers of storms.

The next day and the subsequent days, the 28th, 29th,
3oth, and 31st of October, brought no change in the situa-
tion. The wind, keeping steadily in the east, did not
modify the state of the atmosphere.

Mr. Sergius had carefully taken the shape and dimensions
of the iceberg. It was a sort of irregular trapezium, from
three hundred and fifty to four hundred feet long and about
a hundred wide. This trapezium, a good _ half-fathom
above the water at its borders, swelled up slightly toward
its center. No fissure was visible on its surface, although
dull, crackling sounds sometimes ran through its mass. It
seemed, therefore, as if, until now at least, the billows and
the blast had been powerless against it.

Not without great efforts, the Fazr Rambler had been
drawn to the center. There the ropes and poles belong-
ing to the tent used for the performances held it down so
tight that there was no chance of its being knocked over.

What was most alarming was the shocks they received
every time they knocked against enormous icebergs, which
moved about at unequal speed, according as they obeyed
the impulse of the currents or turned round on their own
axes in the middle of whirlpools. Some of them, measur-
ing at times fifteen or twenty feet in height, came straight
toward them as though going to board an enemy’s ship,

Ae Sie TS ee
‘Big A

ADRIFT. 215

They were perceived from a distance, they were seen draw-
ing near—but how could their assault be possibly avoided ?
There were some that tipped over with a loud clash when
the displacing of their center of gravity disturbed their
equilibrium ; but when collisions took place they were terri-
ble indeed. ‘The shock was often such that, but for timely
precautions, everything would have been smashed inside
the wagon. They were continually threatened with a
possible and sudden dislocation. Hence as soon as the
approach of a large block was announced, Mr. Sergius and
his companions gathered around the Fair Rambler and
clung to each other. John always tried to get near Kayette.
Of all dangers, the most frightful for them would have
been to be carried away separately on different broken
pieces of the berg; and naturally they were safer on its
central part, where it was thickest, than along its borders.

At night, Mr. Sergius and Cascabel, John and Clovy,
mounted guard in turns, and strained every nerve to watch
over their wreck in the midst of that profound darkness,
haunted by huge white figures that glided about like gigan-
tic specters.

Although the air was still full of the mist that was swept
about by the neyer-relenting gale, the moon, which was
very low in the horizon, permeated it with its pale rays, and
the icebergs could be perceived at a certain distance. On
the first cry of whoever was on guard, everybody was on
foot, and awaited the result of the meeting. Frequently
the direction of the approaching enemy would change and
it would float clear away ; but sometimes a clash would
occur, and the shock snapped the ropes and pulled up the
stakes that held the Fazr Rambler. It looked as though
everything should come to pieces; surviving the collision
was something to be thankful for.

Meanwhile, the temperature kept on contrary to all
records. This sea, not frozen yet in the first week of

216 CAESAR CASCABEL.

November. These regions still navigable a few degrees
above the polar circles! All this, surely, was extraordinary
ill-luck! With all this, if some belated whaler had passed
by within sight, they would have made signals to him, they
would have attracted his attention by firing a few shots.
After picking up the shipwrecked party, he might have
brought them to some port on the American coast, to Vict
toria, San Francisco, San Diego, or on the Siberian coast, to
Petropaulovski or Okhotsk. But no, not a sail! Nothing
but floating icebergs! Nothing but the immense, solitary
sea, bounded to the north by an impassable barrier of ice !

Very fortunately, unless in the event of a most unlikely
continuance of this anomalous condition of the tempera-
ture, there was no anxiety to be felt concerning the ques-
tion of food, even though they kept adrift for several weeks.
In view of a lengthy journey through Asiatic regions, where
it would not be easy to procure victuals, they had made
ample provisions of preserves, fiour, rice, grease, etc. They
had no longer, either, to trouble themselves about food
for the horses, alas!

In truth, if Vermont and Gladiator had been spared until
now, how would it be possible to provide for them ?

On the 2d, 3d, 4th, 5th, and 6th of November, nothing
new happened save that the wind showed a tendency to
fall, and shifted somewhat to the north. Scarcely did day-
light last for a couple of hours,—which added still to the
horror of the situation.

In spite of Mr. Sergius’s incessant observations, it be-
came very difficult to judge of the course of the drift ; and,
unabie as they were to dot it on the map, they no longer
knew where they were. However, on the 7th, a landmark
was discovered, recognized, and fixed with a certain amount
of accuracy.

On that day, about eleven o'clock, just as the vague rays
of dawn whitened thespace, Mr, Sergius and John, accompa-

ADRIFT. 217

nied by Kayette, had just gone to the fore part of the ice-
berg. There happened to be, in the showman’s material, a
pretty good telescope with which Clovy used to show
country people the equator,—represented by a thread
stretched across the object-glass,—and the inhabitants of
the moon, personified by insects which he had previously
introduced inside the tube. Having carefully cleaned this
telescope, John had taken it with him, and endeavored with
its help to discover some land away in the open.

For a few moments he had been examining the horizon
very carefully, when Kayette, pointing toward the north,
said :

“T fancy, Mr. Sergius, that I perceive something yon-
der !—Why, isn’t it a mountain I see?”

“A mountain?” replied John. ‘No, it is probably noth-
ing more than an iceberg!”

And he turned his telescope in the direction shown by
the young girl.

“ Kayette is right !’’ he said, almost immediately.

And he gave the instrument to Mr. Sergius, who pointed
it, in his turn, in the same direction.

“ Quite right,” said he, “it is even a pretty high moun-
tain. Kayette was not mistaken.”

On further observation, it was found that there should
be land to the northward, at a distance of some sixteen or
eighteen miles.

That was a fact of the utmost importance.

“To be o’ertopped by so great an elevation, a piece of
land must be of considerable extent,” remarked John.

“Tt must, John,” answered Mr. Sergius ; “and when we
go back to the Fazr Rambler, we must try and find it out on
themap. That will enable us to ascertain our own situation.”

“‘ John, it seems to me as if there was smoke coming out
of the mountain,” suggested Kayette.

“ It would be a volcano then!” said Mr, Sergius.

218 CHESAR CASCABEL.

“It is so, quite so,” added John, who was again peering
through his glass. ‘ ‘The smoke can be seen distinctly.”

But daylight was already dying away, and even with the
magnifying power of the instrument, they were soon unable
to perceive the outline of the mountain.

One hour later, however, when it was almost quite dark,
vivid flashes of light appeared in the direction which had
been recorded by means of a line traced on the surface of
the berg.

“ Now let us go and consult the map,” said Mr. Sergius.

And all three returned to the encampment.

John looked in theatlas for the general map of the boreal
regions beyond Behring Strait, and this is what was calcu-
lated.

As Mr. Sergius had already ascertained, on one hand, that
the current, after flowing north,curved toward the north-
west about one hundred and fifty miles outside the strait,
and, on the other hand, that their ice-raft had been follow-
ing that direction for several days, what they had to find
out was whether there were lands ahead to the northwest.

And sure enough, at a distance of some twenty leagues
from the continent, the map showed a large island to which
geographers have given the name of Wrangell, and the out-
line of which, on its northern side, is but vaguely defined.
It was very probable, indeed, that the iceberg would not
come in contact with it, if the current continued to carry it
through the wide arm of the sea which separates the island
from the coast of Siberia.

Mr. Sergius felt no doubt on the identity of Wrangell
Island. Between the two capes on its southern coast, Cape
Hawan and Cape Thomas, it is surmounted by a live vol-
cano, which is marked on the recent maps. ‘This could be
no other than the volcano that Kayette had discovered, and
the glare of which had been distinctly perceived at the fall
of day.

ADRIFT, 219

Now it was an easy matter to make out the course fol-
lowed by the berg since it had come out of Behring Strait.
After having turned round with the coast, it had doubled
Cape Serdze-Kamen, Kolintchin Bay, Wankarem Promon-
tory, Cape North, then it had entered Long Strait, which
separates Wrangell Island from the coast of the Tchutki
province.

To what regions would the iceberg be borne away when
it had cleared Long Strait, it was impossible to foresee.
What was of a nature to alarm Mr. Sergius the more was,
that, to the northward, the map showed no other land ; ice
alone spread over that immense space, the center of which
is the pole itself.

The only hope to which they could cling now was that
the sea might get entirely frozen up under the action of a
more intense cold,—an eventuality which could not be
delayed much longer ; one which should have come to pass
several weeks since. Our rovers should then get stranded
on to the ice-field, and by directing their steps toward the
south, they might try to reach the Siberian continent.
True, they would be under the necessity of abandoning the
Fair Rambler for want of ateam; and what would they
do, if they had a long distance to cover ?

Meanwhile the wind kept blowing violently from the
east, though no longer in the hurricane fashion of the pre-
ceding days. Such are these horrible seas, huge waves
would unfurl with a loud roar and come dashing against
the crest of the floating block; then rebounding off, they
would sweep right over its surface, and give it such shocks
that it trembled to its very center, as though it would burst
open.

Besides, those giant waves, hurled on as far as the wagon,
threatened to wash away any one who was not inside it.
Hence measures of precaution were taken, on the advice of
Mr. Sergius,

e

220 CHESAR CASCABEL.

As there had been an abundant fall of snow during the
first week in November, it was easy to construct a kind of
rampart, aft of the iceberg, to protect it against the waves,
which most frequently struck it from behind. Everybody
set to work ; and when the snow, duly trodden and beaten,
had been heaped to a height and thickness of four or five
feet, and had become quite hard, it presented an obstacle to
the fury of the billows, the spray alone oversprinkling its
summit. It was like a sort of barricade erected astern of a
disabled vessel.

While this work was going on, Sander and Napoleona
could not refrain from throwing an occasional snow-ball at
each other, and aiming not a few at Clovy’s back. And
although the present was not exactly the time for play, Mr.
Cascabel did not scold too severely, except on one occasion
when a ball, missing its aim, fell full on Mr. Sergius’s hat.

“Who is the good-for-nothing—?” He had not time
to finish.

“Tt was I, father,” cried little Napoleona, quite confused.

“You good-for-nothing child!” exclaimed Cascabel.
“ You will excuse her, will you, Mr. Sergius ?”’

“Leave the child alone, friend Cascabel,” replied the
latter. ‘‘ Let her come and give me a kiss; and it will be
all over.” ;

And it was done accordingly.

Not only was a bank erected on the back part of the ice-
berg, but soon the Fazr Raméler itself was surrounded with
a kind of rampart of ice, so as to protect it more efficiently
still, whilst its wheels, being packed up with ice, right up to
the axle, made the wagon absolutely steady. Inside this

rampart, which went up to the height of the gallery, a nar-

row space had been left which permitted to circulate all
around the vehicle. You might have fancied it was a ship
wintering in the midst of icebergs, with its hull protected
by acuirass of snow against the cold and the squalls. If

It) WAS LIKE A SORT OF BARRICADE . . Pas 220.

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ADRIFT. 221

the block itself did not give way, our shipwrecked party had
nothing more to apprehend from the billows, and, in these
conditions, they might perhaps find it possible to wait until
the Arctic winter had taken entire possession of these hyper-
borean regions. ;

But then, when that time had come, they would have to
start off for the continent! They would have to leave the
home on wheels that had conveyed them through the length
and breadth of the New Worid, and in which they had found
so comfortable and so safe a shelter! Abandoned among
the bergs of the Polar Sea, the Mair Rambler would dis-
appear at the breaking up of the ice when the warm weather
came.

And when Cascabel thought over all that, he who was
always so ready to look at things on their bright side, he
raised his hands to heaven, he cursed his ill luck, and
blamed himself for all these disasters, forgetting that they
were due to the ruffians who had robbed him in the gorges
of the Sierra Nevada, and who were entirely responsible
for the present state of things.

In vain did good Cornelia endeavor to drive his gloomy
thoughts away, at first by gentle words and afterwards by
stinging reproaches. In vain did his children and Clovy
himself claim their share in the consequences of the fatal
resolutions that had been adopted. In vain did they assert
over and over again that this route had been unanimously
agreed upon by the family. In vain did Mr. Sergius and
“little Kayette” try to console the inconsolable Cesar.
He would heed nothing.

“ You are no longer a man, then, aren't you?” said Cor-
nelia to him one day, giving him a good shaking.

“ Not so much as you are, wifey!” he replied, as he tried
to recover his equilibrium, that had been slightly disturbed
by his wife’s muscular admonition.

In reality, Mrs. Cascabel was full of anxiety for the

222 CA°SAR CASCABEL.
s

future. And still, she felt the necessity of reacting against
the dejection of her husband, hitherto so unyielding to the
blows of evil fortune.

And now the question of food was beginning to trouble
Mr. Sergius. It was of the greatest importance that the
provisions should last, not only till such time as they would
‘set out on the ice-field, but right up to the day when they
would reach Siberia. Needless to rely on their guns at a
time of the year when sea-birds would be seen but seldom
flying across the mist. Prudence, therefore, made it obliga-
tory to cut down the rations in view of a journey that might
last a long time.

It was under these conditions that the iceberg, irresist-
ibly drawn along by the currents, reached the latitude of
the Aion Islands, situated to the north of the Asiatic coast.

CHAPTER Wy,
FROM THE I6TH OF NOVEMBER TO THE 2D OF DECEMBER.

T was with the help of a great deal of guessing that Mr.
Sergius came to believe he had recognized this group of
islands. As far as possible, when he took down his observa-
tions, he had made allowance for the drift, which he calcu-
lated at an average of some forty-five miles in twenty-four
hours.

This archipelago, which indeed he was unable to see,
lies, according to the maps, in long. 150 and lat. 75, say
about three hundred miles from the continent. i

Mr. Sergius was right: by the 16th of November the ice-
berg was to the south of this group of islands. But at
what distance? Even by using the instruments habitually
employed by navigators, that distance could not have been
estimated in an approximate way. As the disk of the sun

MOY 16°20 DEC. 3. 223

showed itself but for a few minutes through the mist of
the horizon, the observation would have given no result.
They had definitely entered the long night of the polar
regions.

By this time the weather was horrible, although it hada
tendency to get colder. The thermometer wavered a little
below zero, centigrade. Now this temperature was not low
enough yet to bring about the cohesion of the icebergs
scattered on the surface of the Arctic basin ; in consequence
no obstacle could hinder the drifting of the floe.

Meanwhile, in the indentations along its margin could be
noticed the formation of what polar navigators in winter
quarters call bay-ice, when it occurs inside the narrow creeks
of acoast. Mr. Sergius and John attentively watched these
formations, which would, ere long, spread over the whole
sea. The ice season would then be “full on,” and the situa-
tion of the wanderers would be changed for the better,—
at least they hoped so.

During the first fortnight in November the snow did not
cease falling in extraordinary abundance. Swept along
horizontally by the blast, it accumulated in thick masses
against the rampart erected around the Hair Raméler, and
in a short time made it considerably higher.

On the whole, this accumulation of snow presented no
danger ; nay, it was an advantage in this way, that the Cas-
cabels would be the better protected against the cold. Cor-
nelia would thus be able to spare the paraffine oil and use it
exclusively for kitchen purposes,—a question to be taken into
serious consideration, for, when this oil became exhausted,

_how would they replace it ?

Fortunately, besides, the temperature remained bearable
inside the apartments,—three or four degrees above zero.
It even went up when the /azr Rambler was buried in the
snow ; and now, it was not the heat that was likely to run
short, but rather the air, to which all access was closed.

224 CESAR CASCABEL.

It then became necessary to remove the snow, and every
one had his share in this toilsome task.

And first of all, Mr. Sergius had the little corridor cleared
out that had been contrived inside the rampart. Thena
passage was cut through, so as to make sure of a free exit,
and due care was taken, of course, that this passage should
face the west. Without this precaution, it would have been
obstructed by the snow that the wind drove from the
east.

All danger was not warded off, however, as will be seen
presently.

Needless to say that they left their rooms neither night
norday. ‘There they found a safe shelter against the storm
as well as against the cold, which was increasing, as shown
by the slow and steady fall of the thermometer. None the
less, Mr. Sergius and John did not fail to make their daily
observations whilst a vague glimmer of light tinted yonder
horizon, beneath which the sun would continue to decline
until the solstice of the 21st of December. And day by
day they were disappointed in that faint hope of perceiving
some whaler wintering in the vicinity, or endeavoring to
make his way to some port on Behring Strait ; always and
ever disappointed in the hope of finding the block adhering
to some ice-field adjacent, perchance, to the Siberian coast !
Then beth, returning to the encampment, would try to
reproduce on the map the supposed course of the drift.

It has been mentioned already that fresh game had ceased
to put in an appearance in the kitchen of the /azr Rambler
since its departure from Port Clarence. As a fact, what
could Cornelia have done with those sea-birds which it is
so hard to rid of their oily taste? In spite of her culinary
talents, ptarmigans, and petrels would have been ill-received
by her guests. So John refrained from wasting his powder
and shot on these birds of too Arctic an origin.

However, whenever he was on guard outside, he never

DIGGING A SECOND PASSAGE.—fage 230.

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NOV. 16 TO DEC. 2. 225
went without his gun, and one afternoon, the 26th of
November, he had an opportunity to make use of it.

Suddenly a shot was heard, and immediately after John
called loudly for help.

The feeling of surprise caused -by the unusual occurrence
was not unmingled with a certain amount of anxiety. Out
rushed Mr. Sergius, Cascabel, Sander, and Clovy, followed
by the two dogs.

“Come here! Come here!” John cried.

And so saying, he ran backward and forward, as though
he tried to cut off the retreat of some animal.

“What is it?” inquired Mr. Cascabel.

“T have wounded a seal, and it will escape us if we let it
reach the sea.”

It was a fine animal. It had been wounded inthe chest,
and a streak of blood reddened the snow;; still it would
have managed to escape, had not Mr. Sergius and his com-
panions come to the spot.

With a first blow of its tail, it knocked young Sander to
the ground, but Clovy threw himself bravely on it, kept it
down not without difficulty, and John finished it with a shot
in the head.

If this was not a very dainty bit of venison for Cornelia’s
daily boarders, it was no trifling stock of meat for Wagram
and Marengo. No doubt, had they been able to speak, they
would have thanked John heartily for this lucky windfall.

“ And, by the way, why don’t animals talk?” said Mr.
Cascabel, when they were all seated in front of the stove in
the kitchen.

“For the very simple reason that tHey are not intelligent
enough to talk,” replied Mr. Sergius.

“ Are you of opinion, then,” asked John, “that the
absence of speech is due to a lack of intelligence ?”

“ Most assuredly, my dear John, at least among the supe-
rior animals. ‘Thus, the larynx of the dog is identical with

226 CESAR CASCABEL.

that of man. A dog could talk, then ; and if it does not
do so, it is because its intelligence is not sufficiently de-
veloped to enable it to communicate its impressions by
speech.”’

This theory was, to say the least, open to discussion, but
modern physiologists admit it.

It is worth nothing that a change was gradually taking
place in Mr. Cascabel’s mind. Although he still continued
to hold himself responsible for the present situation, his
philosophy was reassuming its former sway. With his life-
long habit of weathering all storms, he could not believe
that his good star had set. No, its light had been clouded ;
that was all. Hitherto, indeed, the family had not been
too severely tried with physical suffering. True, if dan-
gers increased, as there was reason to fear they would, the
moral power of endurance of the troupe might be severely
taxed.

Hence, with an eye to the future,“Mr. Sergius did not
cease encouraging all the little world around him. During
the long idle hours, seated at the table by the light of the
lamp, he would chat with them, would tell them the various
adventures of his travels through Europe and America.
John and Kayette, sitting near each other, listened to him
with great profit,and to their questions he always gave
some instructive reply. Then, availing himself of his ex-
perience, he ended by saying :

“ Do you see, my friends, there is no reason to despair.
The block we are on is sound and hard, and now that the
cold weather is set, it will not come to pieces. Notice,
moreover, that it is drifting in the very direction we wished
to go, and that we are going on without fatigue, as if we
were on a ship. A little patience and we shall get into
port safe and sound.”

* And which of us is despairing, if you please?” said
Mr, Cascabel to him, one day. “Who takes the liberty to

NOV. 16 TO DEC. 2. 227

despair, Mr. Sergius? Whoever despairs without my per-
mission shall be put on bread and water!”
“ There is no bread !”’ cried young Sander, with a grin.
“Well then, on dry biscuit, and he shall be kept in-

doors!”
“ We can’t go outside!’”’ remarked Clovy.
“ thatsienough!.... Those are my orders!”

During the last week in November, the snowfall took ex-
traordinary proportions. The flakes fell so thick that they
had to give up all thought of walking one step out of doors,
and a veritable catastrophe well-nigh ensued.

On the 30th, at break of day, as he awoke, Clovy was
surprised at the difficulty he experienced in breathing, as
though the air hindered the proper action of the lungs.

The others were sleeping still in their “ apartments ” with
a heavy, painful sleep that gave one the idea that they were
undergoing gradual asphyxia.

Clovy tried to open the door in the forepart of the wagon,
to renew the air. He was unable to do so.

“ Hallo, boss!” he called out in so powerful a tone of
voice that he awoke all the guests of the Fair Rambler.

Mr. Sergius, Cascabel, and his two sons were up in a mo-
ment, and John exclaimed ;

“Why, we are smothering here! We must open the
door!”

“‘ Just what I can’t do!” replied Clovy :

“ The windows, then?”

But as the windows opened outward, it was found equally
impossible to open them.

In a few minutes the door was unscrewed down, and
they understood why they had not been able to slide it as
usual.

The corridor, left inside the rampart all round the
vehicle, was filled up with a quantity of snow driven into

228 CAESAR CASCABEL.

it by the squall, nor was the corridor alone thus crammed
up, but likewise the passage outward through the ice wall.

“Could the wind have changed?” suggested Mr. Cas-
cabel.

“That is not likely,” answered Mr. Sergius. ‘“ So much
snow would not have fallen if the wind had shifted west-
ward.”

“ Our iceberg must have turned round on itself,’ observed
John.

“Ves, that must be so,” replied Mr. Sergius. “ But, let
us see, first, to what is most urgent. We must not let our-
selves be stifled for want of breathable air.”

And immediately, John and Clovy, with pickaxe and
shovel, set about clearing the corridor. A laborious task
in truth ; the hardened snow fitted it to its highest, and
there was reason to believe it even covered up the wagon.

To get on the quicker, they had to relieve each other in
turn. Naturally it was impossible to shovel the snow out ;
so they had to throw it into the first compartment of the
wagon, where, under the action of the internal temperature
it resolved itself into water almost immediately, and flowed
out.

At the end of one hour, the pickaxe had not yet pierced
its way through the compact mass jammed in the corridor.
It was impossible to get out, impossible to renew the air
inside the Hair Rambler, and respiration became more and
more difficult through lack of oxygen and excess of car-
bonic acid.

All were panting, and sought in vain for a little pure air
in this vitiated atmosphere. Kayette and Napoleona expe-
rienced a sensation of choking. There was no concealing
the fact that Mrs. Cascabel was most affected by this state
of things. Kayette, overcoming her own sufferings, en-
deavored to give her some relief. What would have been
needed was to open the windows so as to renew the air, and

ae A

A MARVELOUS SIGHT.—Page 233.

NOV. 16 TO DEC. 2. 229

we have seen that they were externally blocked up with the
snow, as the door had been.

“Let’s work with a will!” Mr. Sergius would go on
repeating. “ Here we have dug six feet through this block.
It cannot be much thicker now!”

No, it should not be much thicker, if the snow had ceased
falling. But perhaps it was falling still, even now.

John, at this timé, hit on the idea of making a hole
through the layer of snow that formed the roof of the
corridor,—a layer that should be thinner than the rest pre-
sumably, and probably less hard. ;

Sure enough, this task was performed successfully and
under more favorable conditions ; and half an hour later,—
it was not one minute too soon,—the hole gave access to
the outer air.

This proved an immediate relief for all the occupants of
the Fair Rambler.

“Oh, how good that is!’ exclaimed little Napoleona,
opening her mouth wide, the better to fill her lungs.

“Fine!” added Sander, as he passed his tongue over
his lips. “I'd rather have it than jam, just now.”

It was some time before Cornelia quite recovered from
that fit of incipient asphyxia, under which she had become
almost unconscious.

The hole having now been made wider, the men hoisted
themselves up to the crest of the ice rampart, Everything
was white tothe utmost limits that the eye could reach.
The wagon had entirely disappeared under an accumulation
of snow which formed a huge mound in the center of the
floating block.

By consulting the compass, Mr. Sergius was able to
ascertain that the wind still blew from the east, and that the
iceberg had wheeled round half a turn on itself,—which had
made its aspect exactly the reverse of what it originally
was,—and by turning the opening of the passage to the

230 CAASAR CASCABEL.

windward had caused the latter to be blocked up with
snow.

In the open air, the thermometer recorded only six
degrees below zero, and the sea was free, so far as could be
judged in the midst of almost complete darkness. It must
be observed, moreover, that in spite of the rotatory move-
ment which the berg had made upon itself,—owing, no
doubt, to its being temporarily caught in some whirlpool,—
it had none the less continued to drift toward the west.

With a view to anticipate the recurrence of a similar
accident, which might be attended with such deplorable
consequences, Mr. Sergius thought it wise to take an addi-
tional measure of precaution. On his recommendation they
dug through the rampart a second passage opposite to the
first; and now, whatever might be the aspect of the berg,
they would always be sure of some means of communication
with the outside. Henceforth, no more fear of a deficiency
of pure air inside the wagon.

“‘ All the same,” said Mr. Cascabel, “ for a God-forsaken
spot, this is a God-forsaken spot, and no mistake! I am
not quite sure that it is good enough for seals, and it’s
nothing to the climate of old Normandy !”’

“7 quite agree with you,” replied Mr. Sergius. ‘Still, we
must take it as it is.”

“ Don't I take it? by Jove! Of course I take it, Mr.
Sergius,—in abomination, I do!”

No, good Cascabel, this is not the climate of Normandy,
not even that of Sweden, Norway, or Finland during their
winter season! It is the climate of the North pole, with its
four months of darkness, its roaring squalls, its continual
fall of dust-like snow, and the thick veil of mist which does
away with the possibility of what we Southerners call a
horizon.

And what a gloomy mental perspective loomed in the

NOV. 16 70 DEC. 2. 231

distance! When this helpless drifting had come to an ehd,
when the berg lay stranded and still, and the sea was no
longer but an immense ice-field, what course would they
adopt? Abandoning the wagon, journeying without it, a
distance of several hundred leagues to the coast of Siberia,—
the mere thought of it was truly frightful. Hence, Mr. Ser-
gius would ask himself whether it might not be best to
winter at the very spot where the floating berg would stop,
and to enjoy, until the fine season returned, the hospitality
of that Fazr Rambler whose rambles were all over, no
doubt! Yes, at the worst, spending the period of intense
cold in these conditions would not have been an impossi-
bility. But, before the temperature would rise, before the
Arctic Sea would break up, they should have left their winter-
quarters and crossed the ice-field, which would dissolve very
quickly when it once began to do so.

As to that, the wanderers were in no hurry yet, and it
would be time enough to consider this question when
winter was over. They should then have to take into
account the distance that would separate them from the con-
tinent of Asia, always under the supposition of their having
some means of calculating it. Mr. Sergius was in hopes
that the distance would not be considerable, seeing that the
iceberg had been floating uniformly toward the west after
doubling Capes Kekournoi, Chelagskoi, and Baranoy, and
cleared Long Strait and Kolima Bay.

Why had it not stopped at the mouth of this latter bay?
From there, it would have been relatively easy to reach the
province of the Ioukaghirs, in which Kabatchkova, Nijneik-

| olymsk, and other villages, would have offered them safe
winter quarters. A team of reindeer might have been
sent to the ice-field for the Ya/r Rambler and would have
brought it on to the continent. But Mr. Sergius felt con-
vinced that this bay must have been left behind, as well as
the mouths of the Tchukotski and Alazeia rivers, being

232 CAESAR CASCABEL.

given the speed of the drift. To check this drift, nothing
now appeared on the map, save the line of those archi-
pelagoes known by the names of Anjou Islands, Liakhov, and
Long Islands, and on these islands, uninhabited for the
most part, how would they find the resources necessary to
the home-journey of the staff and material? Still, even this
would be better than a helpless, aimless drifting about the
furthest limits of the polar regions !

The month of November had just ended. Thirty-nine
days had come and gone since the Cascabels had left Port
Clarence to venture across Behring Strait. But for the
loosening of the ice-field, they would have landed at Nu-
mana quite five weeks ago; and now, having pushed their
way to the southern provinces of Siberia and settled down
in some village, they would have nothing more to dread
from the Arctic winter.

Now, the drift could not keep on much longer. The
cold was gradually increasing and the thermometer steadily
falling. On examining his ice island, Mr. Sergius found
that its area was enlarging daily, owing to the various
blocks it “annexed,” as it shifted its way among them ;
indeed, it had grown, superficially, one-third larger than it
was at first.

During the night from the 30th of November to the 1st
of December, an enormous block came and adhered to the
aft portion of the float ; and, as the base of this block went
down rather deep into the water and it was thereby drawn
with greater speed by the current, it soon whirled the islet
half a turn round and dragged it on ahead just likea
steam tug towing a barge along. ?

At the same time, as the cold had grown more intense
and drier, the sky had quite brightened up again.. The
wind now blew from the northeast,—a fortunate circum-
stance, since it bore to the Siberian coast. The sparkling
stars of the Arctic firmament lit up the long polar nights,

NOV. 16 TO DEC. 2. 233

and frequently an aurora borealis would flood the space
with its luminous jets, springing up from the horizon like
the leaflets of a fan. Away, away the eye could travel,
until, yonder on the very utmost limits of its range, it dis-
cerned the first bank of the polar ice. On the background
of the now clearer horizon, this chain of eternal icebergs
came out in relief with its sharp crests, its rounded-off
ridges, its forest of peaks and offshoots. It was a marvel-
ous sight, and our friends would temporarily forget their
sad situation, gazing in admiration at those cosmic phe-
nomena, peculiar to hyperborean regions.

The speed of the drift had slackened since the wind had
changed, the current being now the sole cause of it. [t
was therefore probable that the iceberg would not be car-
ried much farther westward. for the sea was beginning to
freeze in the interstices between the slowly gliding blocks.
Up tothe present, it is true, this “ young ice,” as whalers
call it, yielded to the least shock. The blocks, scattered
about on the open, being separated but by narrow chan-
nels, the iceberg would sometimes knock against consider-
able masses; it would remain still fora few hours, and
eventually would resume its course. Nevertheless, there
was every reason to look forward to an imminent halt, and
this time it would be for the whole duration of winter.

On the 3d of December, about noon, Mr. Sergius and
John had gone right to the bow of their disabled ship.
Kayette, Napoleona, and Sander had followed them, well
wrapped up in furs, for it was bitter cold. Away to the
south, the faintest glimmer of light showed that the sun
was crossing the meridian. The doubtful whiteness that
pervaded the space was doubtless due to some distant au-
rora borealis. ,

All their attention was drawn to the various motions of
the icebergs, their strange shapes, the shocks they gave
each other, the “somersaults” executed by those whose

234 CESAR CASCABEL.

equilibrium would happen to be displaced by the wearing
out or the breaking off of their submerged base.

Suddenly, the block that had towed the raft for the past
few days seemed to shiver all over, toppled into the sea,
and in its fall broke off the edge of the iceberg, a huge
wave flooding the latter at the same time.

All rushed back with all possible speed, but almost imme-
diately cries were heard :

Eataelpi!): Help !* John!”

It was Kayette’s voice. The portion of the berg on
which she stood had been snapped off by the shock and
was drifting away with her.

“Kayette !.” cried John.. “‘ Kayette!”

But, caught by a side current, the broken block was being
carried away from the berg, which then happened to be
held back by a whirlpool. Yet a little while, and Kayette
would have disappeared in the middle of the drifting ice.

* ‘“Kayette! Kayette!’’ John called.

“John! John!” repeated the young girl, one last time.

On hearing the cries, Mr. Cascabel and Cornelia had
come running to the spot. There they stood, horror-
stricken, near Mr. Sergius, who was at utter loss to know
what to do to save the unfortunate child.

Just then, the broken block having come within five or six
feet of where they were, John sprang off with one bound
before they could hold him back and fell by the side of
Kayette.

“Myson! Myson!” sobbed Mrs. Cascabel.

Saving them was now out of the question. By the im-
pulse of his fall, John had pushed the block far away.
Both were soon out of sight among the icebergs, and even
their cries, lost through the space, ceased ,to be heard.

After two hours’ anxious watching, night came: Mr. Ser-
gius, Cascabel, Cornelia, all were compelled to return to the
encampment. ;

NOV. 16 TO DEC. 2. 235

What a night the poor people spent pacing to and fro
around the Fair Rambler amid the piteous howlings of the
dogs! John and Kayette carried away! Without shelter,
without food,—lost! Cornelia wept; Sander and Napo-
leona mingled their tears with hers. Cascabel, utterly
crushed by this new blow, no longer uttered but incoherent
words, the general purport of which was that all the mis-
fortunes that had befallen his home were his own doing.
As to Mr. Sergius, what consolation could he have offered
them, when he, himself, was inconsolable ?

The next day, the 4th of December, about eight o'clock
in the morning, the iceberg had begun to move forward
again, having at last cleared the whirlpool by which it had
been detained all night. Its course was the same as that
followed by John and Kayette, but as they were eighteen
hours ahead, all hope of overtaking them or finding them
again should be given up. They were beset by too many
dangers, besides, to escape them safe and sound, what with
the cold, which was becoming excessively keen, with the
pangs of hunger that they would be unable to appease, and
the incessant collisions with icebergs, the smallest of which
could have crushed them on its way!

Better not attempt to depict the grief of the Cascabels !
In spite of the fall in the temperature, not one of them
would consent to go indoors, and they kept on calling
John, calling Kayette, neither of whom could hear their
heart-rending cries.

The day wore itself out, and the situation was still
unchanged. Night came, and Mr. Sergius ordered father
mother, and children, to seek the shelter of the /air
Rambler, although nobody could sleep for one single
moment.

Suddenly, about three in the morning, a frightful shock
was felt, and so violent was it that the wagon was well-

236 CAESAR CASCABEL.

nigh upset. Whence came this shock? Had some enor-
mous iceberg collided with the raft, and perchance broken
it?

Out rushed Mr. Sergius.

An aurora borealis cast its reflection through the space ;
it was possible to discern objects within a radius of half a
league around the encampment.

Mr. Sergius’s first thought was to cast his searching eye
in every direction.

_ No sign of John or Kayette.

As to the shock, it had been caused by the knocking of
the berg against the ice-field. Thanks to a further fall in
the temperature,—which had gone down to twenty degrees
below zero, centigrade,—the surface of the sea was now
completely solidified. ‘There, where all was unrest yester-
day, everything was now still and steady. All drifting was
permanently at an end.

Mr. Sergius hastened back and announced to his friends
the final halt of their floating berg.

“So, the sea is all set ahead of us?” inquired the be-
reaved father.

“ Ahead of us, and behind, and all around us,” replied
Mr. Sergius.

“Well, let us go look for John and Kayette! There is
not one minute to lose.”

SseL-us be off, !

Cornelia and Napdleona would not remain with the az
Rambler; it was accordingly left in Clovy’s charge and all
started off, the two dogs scouting ahead, and scenting all
over the ice-field as they went.

They walked at a good speed on the ice, which was as
hard as granite, and naturally they made for the west, where,
if Wagram and Marengo ever fell on the track of their
young master, they would soon recognize it. At the end
of half an hour, however, they had found nothing yet, and

i

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HELP! JOHN! HELP !—/age 234

LIAKHOV ISLANDS. 237

they had to halt, for one quickly got out of breath with a
temperature so low that the air seemed frozen.

The ice-field, which spread out of sight, north, south and
east, seemed bounded on the west by certain heights which
did not present the usual appearance of icebergs. They
might be the outline of a continent or of an island,

Just at this moment, the dogs, with loud barks, made a
rush for a whitish mound on which a certain number of
black specks could be perceived.

They at once resumed their tramp onward, and presently
Sander remarked that two of those black specks were mak-
ing signs to them.

“ John !—Kayette!”’ he cried, rushing on ahead after
Wagram and Marengo.

They were, indeed, Kayette and John, safe and sound.

But they were not alone. A group of natives surrounded
them; and these were the inhabitants of Liakhov Islands.

CHAPTER. V.
LIAKHOV ISLANDS.

HERE are, in this part of the Arctic Sea, three archi-
pelagos, designated under the general name of New
Siberia, and comprising Long Islands, Anjou Islands, and
Liakhov Islands. The latter, the nearest to the continent of
Asia, consist of a group of islands lying between the 73d
and the 75th degrees of latitude north, and the 35th and
140th of longitude east, on a surface of some forty thousand
square miles. Among the principal ones may be named
the isles of Kotelnoi, Blinoi, Maloi, and Belkov.
Barren lands these are ; no trees, no product out of the
soil; barely some signs of a rudimentary kind of vegetation
during the few weeks of summer; nothing but bones ot

238 CAESAR CASCABEL.

cetacea and of mammoths, accumulated here ever since the
period of geological formation ; fossil wood in very large
quantities ; such are the archipelagos of New Siberia.

Liakhov Islands were discovered in the early years of the
eighteenth century.

It was on Kotelnoi, the most important and the most
southerly of the group, some three hundred miles from the
continent, that the staff of the Fazr Rambler had landed,
after a drift of forty days over a space of six or seven
hundred leagues. To the southwest, on the coast of Siberia,
lies the vast bay of the Lena, a wide opening through which
the river of that name, one of the most important in northern
Asia, pours out its waters into the Arctic Sea.

Evidently then, this Liakhov archipelago is the wltma
thule of the polar regions in this longitude. Beyond it,
right on to the insurmountable barrier of the polar ice, no
land has been descried by navigators. Fifteen degrees
higher is the North pole.

Our wanderers had therefore been cast ashore at the
very world’s end, although at a lower latitude than the
latitude of Spitzbergen or that of the northern parts of
America.

On the whole, granting that the Cascabels had journeyed
farther north than they had originally intended to do, still
they had constantly drawn nearer and nearer to Russia in
Europe. The hundreds of leagues they had covered since
leaving Port Clarence had caused them less fatigue than
exposureto danger. Drifting away, under these conditions,
was so much land journey saved through countries that are
almost untravelable during winter. And there would have
. been, perhaps, no reason for complaining, if, by a last stroke
of ill luck, Mr. Sergius and his companions had not fallen
into the hands of the natives of Liakhov. Would they obtain
their liberty or could they ever recover it by flight? It
seemed doubtful. In any case, they would know all about

LIAKHOV ISLANDS. 239

it ere long ; and when they were fixed on that point, it
would be time enough to adopt a line of action, according
to circumstances.

Kotelnoi Island is inhabited by a Finnish tribe, reckoning
from three hundred and fifty to four hundred souls, men,
women, and children. These repulsive-looking natives are
among the least civilized of those who inhabit these parts,
be they Tchuktchis, Ioukaghirs, or Samoyedes. Their
idolatry is beyond belief, despite the noble efforts of the
Moravian Brothers, who have never been able to conquer
the superstitious spirit of these Neo-Siberians or their innate
thieving and pillaging propensities.

The principal industry of the Liakhov archipelago consists
in the catching of cetacea, great numbers of which frequent
this part of the Arctic Sea, and likewise in seal hunting,
these animals being as plentiful here as in Behring Island
during the warm season. a

Winter is very severe in this latitude of New Siberia.
The natives live, or rather earth themselves, in the depths
of dark holes, dug under heaps of snow. These holes are
sometimes divided into rooms, where it is not difficult to
maintain a pretty high temperature. What they burn is
that fossil wood, not unlike peat, of which (as was already
said) these islands contain considerable strata, not to men-
tion the bones of cetacea, which are also used as fuel.

An opening, made by these Northern Troglodytes in the
ceiling of their caves, supplies a means of exit for the smoke
of their very primitive hearths. Hence, at first sight, the
soil seems to emit vapors similar to those which come out
of sulphur mines.

As to their food, the flesh of the reindeer constitutes its
chief basis. These ruminants are parked on the islets and
islands of the archipelago in large flocks. Their “table”
is, moreover, provisioned with the flesh of the elk and with
dried fish, large quantities of which are stored up before

240 C4ESAR CASCABEL.

winter. It follows therefrom that the Neo-Siberians need
have no fears on the score of famine.

One chief was at this time reigning over the Liakhov
group. His name was Tchou-Tchouk, and he wielded an
uncontested authority over his subjects. In their abject
submission to the régime of absolute monarchy, these na-
tives are the very antithesis of the Eskimos of Russian
America, who live in a kind of republican equality. And
with respect to social well-being, they differ even more from
them, thanks to their savage manners and inhospitable
ways, which are the source of frequent complaints on the
part of whalers. Alas for the good-hearted natives of Port
Clarence! How they would be regretted, ere-long !

Certain it is that the Cascabels could not, have fared
worse! After the catastrophe in Behring Strait, coming to
land just on the Liakhov archipelago, and falling among
such unsociable creatures, was indeed outstripping all the
bounds of ill luck.

Nor did Mr. Cascabel conceal his disappointment when he
saw himself surrounded with some hundred natives, howl-
ing, gesticulating, and threatening the castaways whom the
vicissitudes of this luckless journey had thrown into their
power. :

“Well, well, who are these apes after?” he exclaimed,
after pushing away those who were closing too near him.

“* After us, father!” said John.

“ A funny way they have of bidding visitors welcome !
Are they thinking of eating us up?”

“ No, but very probably they intend keeping us prisoners
on their island!”

“ Prisoners ?—”

“Yes, as they have done already with two sailors who
arrived here before us.” :

john had no opportunity to give more complete details.
The new-comers had just been seized by a dozen natives,

SSS
SS
SS===

\ ‘el

Hours or CONTINUAL ANGUISH.—fage 241,

LIAKHOV ISLANDS. 241

and, whether they willed it or not, they had of necessity to
follow their captors to Tourkef village, the capital of the
archipelago.

Meanwhile, a score of other savages started in the direc-
tion of the Harr Rambler, which could be perceived away
in the east, thanks to the little streak of smoke issuing from
its funnel.

A quarter of an hour later the prisoners had reached
Tourkef, and were led into a pretty large cave dug under
the snow.

“This is the jail of the locality, no doubt!” remarked
Mr. Cascabel, as soon as they were left alone around a fire,
lighted in the center of the hovel.

But first of all John and Kayette had to tell the tale of
their adventures.

The block of ice on which they were had followed a
westerly course after it had been lost to sight behind the
drifting bergs. John held the young girl in his arms lest
she should be knocked off by the continual shocks they
received. They had no provisions ; they were fated to be
without a shelter for long hours to come ; but at least fhey
were together. Keeping close against each other, they
would not feel hungry or cold, perhaps.

Night came on. Even though they could not see, they
could hear each other. The hours passed on in the midst
of continual anguish and with the never-ceasing dread of
being thrown into the abyss beneath them. At last the pale
rays of dawn appeared, and just then their float was locked
to the ice-field.

Away John and Kayette ventured over the immense waste;
they walked on and on, and at last reached Kotelnoi Island,
where they naturally fell into the hands of the natives.

“And you say, John, that there are other shipwrecked
prisoners ?”’ inquired Mr. Sergius.

« There are, sir.”

242 CAASAR CASCABEL.

“You have seen them?”

“ Mr. Sergius,” said Kayette, “ I have been able to under-
stand these people, for they talk Russian ; and they spoke
of two sailors who are kept prisoners in the village.”

As a matter of fact, the language of the northern tribes
of Siberia closely resembles Russian, and Mr. Sergius would
be in a position to explain himself with the inhabitants of
these isles. But what was there to expect from these plun-
derers who, driven away from the more populous provinces
near the mouths of the rivers, have sought in the far-away
archipelagos of New Siberia a den of safety, where they have
nothing to fear from the Russian authorities.

However, Mr. Cascabel's ill temper knew no bounds
since he had been denied the liberty of going and coming
where he willed. He repeated to himself, and not without
good grounds, that the /azr Rambler would be descried,
pillaged, destroyed, perhaps, by these ruffians. In truth, it
was not worth while having escaped out of the cataclysm
in the Strait of Behring, to come headlong into the claws
of this “ polar vermin.”

“Come, Cesar,’ Cornelia would say to him, “ compose
yourself. What use is there in flying intoa passion! After
all, much worse than all this might have befallen us!”

“Worse, Cornelia ?”

“Why, of course, Cesar! What would you say if we
had not found John and Kayette? Well, there they are,
both of them, and we are alive, all of us! Just think of
the dangers we have run, and escaped! Why, it is nothing
short of a miracle, and my opinion is that instead of raving
like‘a madman, you ought to be thanking Providence—”

“So I do, Cornelia, thank Providence from the bottom
of my heart. All the same, surely it’s no harm if I curse
the devil for having pitchforked us into the clutches of
those monsters! Why, they are more like brutes than like
human creatures ! ”

7 ee

LIAKHOV ISLANDS. 243

And Cascabel was right, but Cornelia was not wrong,
Not one of the guests of the Fazr Rambler was missing.
Such as they had left Port Clarence, such they had met
together again in this Tourkef village.

“Yes, we are all together again, inside a mole-hill, or a
polecat’s hole, if you choose,” grumbled Cascabel ; “a den
that an ill-licked bear would not consent to lie in!”

“ By Jove !—What about Clovy ?”’ exclaimed Sander.

And, forsooth, what had become of the poor fellow who
had been left in charge of the wagon? Had he, at the
risk of his life, attempted to defend his master's property ?
Was he now in the power of the savages ?

And now that Sander had recalled Clovy to the members
of the family then present :

“ And what about Jako!” said Cornelia.

“And John Bull!” said Napoleona.

“ And our dogs !”’ added John. ’

Needless to say that all the sympathy was for Clovy.
The ape, the parrot, Wagram and Marengo were, of course,
a question of very secondary consideration.

At this moment a loud noise was heard outside. There
was a veritable storm of indignant recriminations, and to
the general confusion was superadded the barking of the
two dogs. Almost immediately, the orifice used to gain
access to the den was flung open ; in bounded Wagram and
Marengo, and after them appeared Clovy.

“Here I am, boss!” cried the poor fellow, “ unless, may-
be, it’s not myself! For I really don’t know what's become
ofime!!”’

“ That’s exactly how we feel, too!” replied the boss, as
he stretched out his hand to him.

“And our Fair Rambler?” inquired Cornelia trem-
blingly.

“The Fair Rambler?” answered Clovy. “ Why, those
gentlemen outside ferreted it out under the snow; they

244 CAESAR CASCABEL.

yoked themselves to it like so many heads of cattle and
brought it here to this village.”

* And Jako ?” said Cornelia.

“ And Jako, too.”

* And John Bull?” added Napoleona.

* And John Bull, likewise.”’

Everything considered, since the Cascabels were detained
at Tourkef, it was better their wagon should be there too,
although running the risk of being ransacked.

Meanwhile hunger began to make itself felt,and there
was no visible sign of the natives concerning themselves
about the feeding of their prisoners. Very fortunately, the
prudent Clovy had taken the precaution of cramming his
pockets, and out of their depths he drew several tins of
preserves, which would be sufficient for the first meals.
Then, all wrapped, themselves up in their furs and slept as
well as they could in an atmosphere rendered almost
unbreathable by the smoke from the peat fire.

Next morning, the 4th of December, Mr. Sergius and
his companions were led out of their hovel; and with un-
speakable relief they slowly inhaled the outer air, although
the cold was intense and keen.

They were brought to the presence of Tchou-Tchouk.

This cunning-faced personage, whose general appearance
was the reverse of attractive, occupied a sort of subterra-
neous dwelling, larger and more comfortable than the dens
of his subjects. It had been dug at the foot of a huge,
gloomy, snow-capped rock, the summit of which was not
unlike the head of a bear.

Tchou-Tchouk might have been fifty years of age. His
smooth face, lit with a pair of small eyes which glistened
like live coals, was animalized, if I may apply the word to
_ the facial aspect of the lower animals, by the sharp tusks that
came out between his lips. Seated ona heap of furs, clad

(N\A
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HAN
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BROUGHT TO THE PRESENCE OF TCHOU-TCHOUK.—Page 244.

= ==. ©

LIAKHOV ISLANDS. 245

in reindeer skins, his legs buried in sealskin boots and his
“upper end ” duly protected by a fur hood, he lazily nodded
his head backward and forward.

“What an astute oid scoundrel he looks!’ murmured

Mr. Cascabel.

By his side stood two or three notables of the tribe.
Outside lounged a half hundred natives, clad much in the
Same way as their chief ; whether men or women the pris-
oners could not tell, Neo-Siberian fashion in dress being
no “ respecter ”’ of sexes.

And first of all, Tchou-Tchouk, addressing Mr. Sergius,
whose nationality he doubtless had guessed, said to him in
very intelligible Russian :

SW ho.are you ?”’

“A subject of the Czar!” replied Mr. Sergius, thinking
that the imperial title might perchance awe this petty sove-
reign of an archipelago.

“And those?” continued Tchou-Tchouk, pointing to
the members of the Cascabel family.

“« French .people.”’

“French ?”’ repeated the chief.

And it seemed as though he had never heard of a people
ora tribe of that name.

“Why, of course, French !—French people from France,
you old wretch!” exclaimed Mr. Cascabel.

But this was said in the most vernacular French, and with
all the freedom of speech of a man who feels sure and cer-
tain that he will not be understood.

“And she ?” inquired the monarch, turning to Kayette ;
for it had not escaped his notice that the young girl should
be of a different race.

“ An Indian,” answered Mr. Sergius.

Whereupon a somewhat lively conversation ensued be-
tween him and Tchou-Tchouk, the principal passages of
which he translated for his friends,

246 C4SAR CASCABEL.

The outcome of the whole discussion was that the party
should consider themselves prisoners, and that they should,
remain on Kotelnoi Island so long as they would not have
paid down, in good Russian money, a ransom of 3000 rou-
bles.

“ And where does this son of Ursa Mayor think we shall
get them?” cried Cascabel. ‘“ No doubt, by this time his
ruffans have stolen what remained of your money, Mr,
Sergius!”

The king made a sign, and the prisoners were shown out.
They were allowed to go about in the village on condition
that they would not leave it ; and, from the very first day,
they could notice they were closely watched. At this sea-
son, indeed, in the heart of winter, it would have been
impossible for them to run away with a view to reach the
continent.

Straightway the whole troupe had made for the Hazr Ram-
bler. A great number of natives had crowded around it, in
ecstasy before John Bull, who gratified them with his
choicest grimaces. They had never seen an ape before,
and imagined, very probably, that this red-haired quadru-
man belonged to the human species.

“Why, they belong to it themselves!” remarked Cor-
nelia,

‘They do, but they are a disgrace to it,’’ added her
husband.

Then, on second thought :

“ And, my word!” said he, “I made a big mistake in
calling those savages ‘apes’! They are not up to them in
any respect, and I offer you my best apologies for what I
said, my little John Bull!”

And by way of answering, John Bull turned heels over
head. But, one of the natives having tried to get hold of
his hand, he bit his finger so deep as to make the blood
flow.

LIAKHOV ISLANDS. 247

“That's it, John Bull! Bite them! Bitet hem hard!”
called Sander.

This, however, might have ended unpleasantly for the little
ape, and he might have paid a dear price for his bite, if the
attention of the natives had not been drawn away by the
apparition of Jako; his cage had just been opened, and he
was coming out for a walk with the leisurely strut of an
Eastern potentate.

Parrots were not known any more than monkeys in these
archipelagos of New Siberia. No one had ever seen a bird
of this kind, with such bright colors on its feathers, with
two round eyes that looked like the glasses of a pair of
spectacles, and a beak curved round like a hook.

But who will describe the sensation Jako created when
out of its beak came forth clearly articulated words! One
followed another until the whole repertory of the loquacious
bird had been poured out, to the utter amazement of the
natives. A bird that spoke! And the superstitious crea-
tures would throw themselves on the ground as if words
had been uttered by the mouths of their divinities. Nor
did Mr. Cascabel fail to excite his parrot the more:

“Go on, Jako!” he would say, teasing him the while.
“Goon! Say all you like tothem! Tell the fools to go
to Jericho!”

And Jako would bid them “Go to Jericho,” one of his
favorite expressions. And the bidding came out with such
trumpet-like sound that the natives took to their heels,
with all the outward signs of the greatest terror.

And, in spite of all their anxiety, the ill-fated troupe
enjoyed “a hearty old chuckle,” as their illustrious head
wouid have put it.

“Well, well,’ he said, as he recovered a little of his old
good temper, “it will be the very devil, surely, if we cant
manage to get the better of this flock of two-footed cattle !”
The prisoners were left to themselves ; and as it appeared

248 CAESAR CA SCA BEL.

that Tchou-Tchouk allowed the Hair Rambler to remain at
their disposal, they had nothing better to do than re-enter
their old home. No doubt the Neo-Siberians thought it
inferior to their holes under the snow.

Truth to say, the wagon had _ been stripped only of a few
unimportant articles, but what remained of Mr. Sergius’s
money had been taken away. This, however, Ceesar Cas-
cabel had quite made up his mind that he would not leave
behind, not even as a ransom.

Meanwhile, it was a stroke of good fortune that they
should be once more in their little parlor, their dining-
room, the little compartments inside the Fair Rambler,
rather than live in the loathsome dens of Tourkef. There
was scarcely anything missing. ‘The bedding, the utensils,
the tins of preserves had apparently failed to “tickle the
fancy of the ladies and gentlemen of the locality.” And
so, if they had to wait for months, watching their opportu-
nity to escape from Kotelnot Island,—well, they would
winter where they were.

In the mean time, since they were left quite free to come
and go as they chose, Mr. Sergius and his companions re-
solved to put themselves in communication with the two
sailors who,—it was probable,—had been shipwrecked and
cast on this island. They might, perhaps, act in concert
with them and devise some plan to cheat Tchou-Tchouk’s
watchfulness and make their escape when circumstances
would be favorable.

The remainder of the day was spent setting things in
order inside the little home. No light task was it, either !
And how Cornelia grumbied, she who was so very careful
in her household work. It kept Kayette, Napoleona, and
Clovy as busy as bees right away till bedtime.

It should be recorded, by the way, that from the time he
had determined to play some’ huge trick on His Majesty
Tchou-Tchouk, Mr, Cascabel seemed to have recovered

LIAKHOV ISLANDS. 249

from the recent blows he had received. “Richard was him-
self again.”

The following day Mr. Sergius and he went in search of
the two sailors, who were very likely to enjoy the same
liberty as they did. Sure enough, they were not kept ina
prison ; the meeting took place at the door of the den which
they occupied at the other end of the village, and no
objection whatever was made on the part of the native
warders.

These sailors were of Russian origin ; one was thirty-five
years of age, the other forty. Cold, want, and hunger had
furrowed their long-drawn cheeks; their sailors’ clothes
were covered with rags of fur; under their thick head of
hair and their overgrown beard, their features could scarce
be distinguished. They were the very picture of misery.
Still, they were strongly built, muscular fellows, who would
be well able to give a helping hand, should an opportunity
present itself. For all that, it did not seem as though they
were very desirous of getting intimate with these strangers,
whose arrival on the island had already been announced to
them.

The identity of their position, a common desire to get
out of it by aiding each other, ought surely to have drawn
the two parties together.

Mr. Sergius questioned the two men in Russian, The
elder gave his name as Ortik, the younger as Kirschef ;
and, not without a certain amount of hesitation, they con-
sented to tell their history.

“We are sailors belonging to the port of Riga,” said
Ortik. “A year ago we embarked on board the whaler
Seraski, for a season in the Arctic Sea. When it was over,
we were unlucky enough not to reach Behring Strait in
time ; our boat was caught between icebergs, north of the
Liakhov Islands, and was crushed to pieces. All the crew
perished except Kirschef and myself. We set out together

250 C4ESAR CASCABEL.

inasmall boat; a storm drove us on to these islands, and
we fell into the hands of the natives.”

“ When was that ?”’ asked Mr. Sergius.

“ Two months ago.”

“ How did they receive you here?”

“Like yourselves, most likely,” replied Ortik. ‘We are
Tchou-Tchouk’s prisoners ; and let us off he won’t, except
for a ransom.”

““ Where shall we get it?’’ interrupted Kirschef.

“ Unless,”’ continued the other, in a blurting sort of a
way, “unless, may be, you have money for yourselves and
for us; for we are countrymen, I think—”’

“ We are,” answered Mr. Sergius; “but the money we
possessed has been stolen by the natives, and we are quite
as destitute as you can possibly be yourselves.”

“ Worse luck!” growled Ortik.

Both, then, gave a few details on the way they lived. It
was that narrow, dark cave they used for a dwelling-place ;
and, while watching them continually, their captors allowed
them a certain degree of liberty. Their clothes were in
rags, they had nothing to eat but the usual food of the
natives, and that in barely sufficient quantity. They
thought, moreover, that when the fine season drew near,
they would be more closely guarded, and all attempt at an
evasion would become impossible.

“ Seeing that all we’d have to do would be to get hold of
a fishing canoe, to get across to the continent, you may be
sure that the natives will look after us, and perhaps shut
us up!”

“But the mild season will not return for four or five
months,” said Mr. Sergius, “ and, remaining prisoners until
then— ”

“ Why, you havea way to get off, then?” asked Ortik,
interrupting him.

“We have not, at present. Meanwhile, it is quite natural «

LIAKHOV ISLANDS. 25!
that we should try and help each other mutually. You seem
to have suffered a great deal, my friends, and if wecan be
of any assistance to you—”’

The two sailors thanked Mr. Sergius, but there was a
visible lack of candor in their thanks. If, from time to
time, he would procure them some better food than what
they -had, they would feel grateful to him. That is all they
cared for, unless he could, perhaps, oblige them with some
covering. As to living together, they would rather not!
They preferred staying in their hole, but promised to call
on,their visitors.

Mr. Sergius and Cascabel, the latter of whom had under-
stood a few words of this conversation, took leave of the
two sailors.

Although these men’s appearance was all but sympathetic,
this was no reason for refusing tohelp them. Shipwrecked
people owe aid and assistance to each other. They would
come to the relief of the sailors, therefore, within the limits
of their means ; and, should a chance of escaping offer
itself, Mr. Sergius would not forget them. They were
countrymen of his, after all; and they were men like him.

A fortnight elapsed, and they gradually fell in with the
shortcomings of their new situation. Each morning they
were compelled to appear before the native sovereign and
to listen to his pressing demands anent their ransom. He
flew into fits of passion, would use threats and swear by his
idols! It was not for himself, it was for them he claimed
the tribute of deliverance.

“You old swindler!’ Mr. Cascabel would say. ‘Com-
mence by giving us back our money! We shall see after-

wards!”
On the whole, future prospects were anything but bright

with hopes. There was cause to fear that from one day to
another Tchou-Tchouk might carry his threats into effect
And day after day, Cascabel puzzled his brains to find out

252 CAESAR CASCABEL.

some means of playing “ Cheek-cheek,” a trick worthy of
him. It was all to no purpose; and the poor artist began
to wonder if his bag of tricks was not empty, and by his bag
of tricks he meant his brain-box. Indeed, the man who
had indulged that grand idea,—as bold as it was now to be
regretted,—of returning from America to Europe by way of
Asia, seemed but too fully justified in saying to himself that
he was nothing more than a “ regular fool.”

‘No, Cesar, you are not a fool!” Cornelia would say.
“You will hit upon something choice in the end! It will
strike you when you think of it least !”

“ You think so, wifey ?”’

alam ‘sure’of it !.”’

Was it not touching to see Cornelia’s unshakable confi-
dence in the genius of her husband, in spite of the unlucky
plan he had conceived with regard to this journey ?

Of course Mr. Sergius was ever there, ready to encourage
everybody. And yet, the efforts he made to induce Tchou-
Tchouk to give up his claims were absolutely fruitless.
And even though the savage chief had consented to restore
them their liberty, the Cascabels could not have left Ko-
telnoi Island in the middle of winter, with a temperature
wavering between thirty and forty degrees below zero.

The 25th of December being at hand, Cornelia decided
that Christmas should be celebrated with some éc/at. The
said éc/at would simply consist in offering her guests a
more carefully prepared dinner, one more plentiful than
usual, although its various courses would be composed
exclusively of preserves. Moreover as there was no lack
of flour, rice, and sugar, the good housewife displayed all
her skill in the making of a gigantic cake, the success of
which was, beforehand, a certainty.

The two Russian sailors were invited to this meal, and
accepted the invitation. It was the first time they had
ever come inside the Fair Rambler,

A

PITCHING

if gee ee
=e
«

LIAKHOV ISLANDS. 253

No sooner had one of them,—the younger, called Kirs-
chef,—opened his lips than the sound of his voice struck
Kayette. She seemed to think that voice was not unknown
to her; but where she could have heard it, she was unable
to guess.

In truth, neither Cornelia, her little daughter, or even
Clovy, felt any sympathetic attraction toward these two
men, who seemed ill at ease in the presence of their own
fellow-creatures.

As the banquet was drawing to an end, Mr. Sergius, at
Ortik’s request, was led to relate the adventures of the
Cascabeis in the province of Alaska. He added how he
had been picked up half dead by them, after an attempt at
murder committed on his person by some of Karkof's
men. :

Had their faces been fully in the light, these two men
might have been seen exchanging a singular glance when
the crime came to be mentioned. But this passed off un-
noticed, and after taking their good share of the cake,
which had been liberally soaked with vodka, Ortik and
Kirschef left the Hair Rambler.

They were scarce outside when one of them said :

“There is a meeting that wasn’t on the card! Why,
that’s the Russian we attacked just at the frontier; and
that Indian is the cursed girl that prevented us finishing
him off!”

“ And clearing out his belt !’’ added the other.

“Ves! Those thousands of roubles would not be in
Tchou-Tchouk’s clutches now!”

And so, these two would-be sailors were really outlaws
belonging to that Karkof gang, whose deeds had spread
terror over ‘western America. After their unsuccessful
assault on Mr. Sergius, whose features they had been
unable to notice in the darkness, they had succeeded in

254 CESAR CASCABEL.

making their way to: Port Clarence. There, a few days
later, they had stolen a boat and had endeavored to cross
Behring Strait ; but, dragged away by the currents anda
hundred times well-nigh hurled into the jaws of death, they
had ultimately been cast on the chief island of the Liakhov
Archipelago, where they had been made prisoners by the
natives.

CHAPTER VI.
IN WINTER QUARTERS.

UCH was the situation of Mr. Sergius and his com-
panions on January the rst, 1868.

Alarming as it was already, through their being prisoners
of the Neo-Siberians of the Liakhov Islands, it was now
complicated by the presence of Ortik and Kirschef. Who
knows if the two scoundrels would not endeavor to turn so
unexpected a meeting to profit? Luckily, they were igno-
rant of the fact that the traveler attacked by them on the
Alaskan frontier was Count Narkine, a political prisoner
escaped from the Iakoutsk fortress, seeking to re-enter
Russia by joining an itinerant showman’s troupe.

Had they known it, they surely would have felt no hesi-
tation in making use of the secret, levying blackmail on the
Count, or in handing him over to the Russian authorities,
in exchange for a reprieve or a pecuniary reward for them-
selves.

But was there not a possible danger of a mere accident
betraying the secret to them, although Cascabel and his ~
wife alone were now acquainted with it ?

Meanwhile, Ortik and Kirschef continued to live apart ©
from the troupe, determined though they weré to join them, —
whenever an opportunity to regain their liberty should pre-
sent itself.

IN WINTER QUARTERS. 255

For the present, indeed, and so long as the wintry period
- of the polar year would last, it was but too evident there
was nothing to be attempted. The cold had become so ex-
cessive that the damp air exhaled by the lungs turned into
snow. Sometimes the thermometer went down as low as
forty degrees below zero, centigrade. Even in calm
weather it would have been impossible to bear such a tem-
perature. Cornelia and Napoleona never dared venture out
of the Fair Rambler; indeed, they would have been pre-
vented if they had. How endless they thought those sun-
less days, or rather those nights, of almost twenty-four
hours’ duration !

Kayette alone, accustomed to North American winters,
was bold enough to face the cold out of doors ; and in this
she was imitated by the native women. They were seen
going about their daily work, clad in reindeer-skin dresses,
two hides thick, wrapped up in fur palsks, their feet incased
in sealskin boots, and their heads covered with a cap of
dogskin. Not even the tips of their noses could be seen,—
which was not much to be regretted, it seems.

Mr. Sergius, Cascabel, his two sons, and Clovy, carefully
protected by their furs, paid their obligatory visit to Tchou-
Tchouk every day ; and so did the two Russian sailors,
who had been supplied with warm covering.

As to the male population of New Siberia, they boldly
sally forth inany weather. They go hunting on the surface
of their wide plains, hardened with frost ; they quench their
thirst with snow, and feed on the flesh of the animals they
kill onthe way. Their sleds are very light ; they are made
with the bones, ribs, and jaws of whales, and are set up on
sliders on which they get a coating of ice by simply water-
ing them just befere starting off. To draw them along they
use the reindeer, an «::1:mal which is of the greatest ser-

vice tothem in man; ways. Their dogs are the Samoyede
breed, closely resembling the wolf species, and quite as

3
I

256 CAESAR CASCABEL.

ferocious as the latter, with long legs and a thick coat of
hair, dotted black and white or yellow and brown.

When the Neo-Siberians travel on foot, they put on their
long snow-shoes, “or s&s,” as they call them, and with
these they swiftly skim over considerable distances, along
the straits which separate the various islands of the archi-
pelago, “tracking it”? on the fundras or strips of alluvial
soil usually formed on the edge of Arctic shores.

The natives of the Liakhov group are very inferior to the
Eskimos of Northern America in the art of manufacturing
weapons. Bows and arrows alone constitute their whole
offensive and defensive arsenal. As to fishing implements,
they have harpoons with which they attack the whale, and
nets which they spread under the gvuzds, a kind of bottom
ice on which seals may be caught.

They likewise use lances and knives when they attack
the seals, a mode of warfare attended with no little danger,
for these animals are formidable.

But the wild animal which they most dread to meet, or
to be attacked by, is the white bear, which the intense.cold
of winter and the necessity of getting some kind of food
after long days of enforced fasting sometimes drive into the
very villages of the archipelago. It must be acknowledged
that the savages display real pluck on such occasions ; they
are never known to run away before the powerful brute,
maddened as it is by hunger; they throw themselves upon
him, knife in hand, and most of the time they come off
victorious.

On several occasions, the Cascabels witnessed encounters
of this kind, in which the polar bear, after grievously
wounding several men, had to yield to the numerical
strength of his foes. The whole tribe then came forth and
the village kept a merry holiday. And what a windfall was
this stock of bear’s meat, so relished, it would seem, by
Siberian stomachs! ‘The best joints naturally found their

A PLucky ENCOUNTER.—/ ag

a

ira
J
‘ +

IN WINTER QUARTERS. 257

way to Tchou-Tchouk’s table and into his wooden bowl.
As to his very humble subjects, each of them had a small
share of what he condescended to leave them. Thence an
Opportunity to indulge in copious libations and eventually
the general intoxication of the villagers, —‘ on what?” you
will say: well, on a liquor made with the young shoots of
the salix and the rhodiola, and the juice of the red whortle-
berry and the yellow marsh berries, a large supply of which
they gather during the few weeks that the mild season lasts.

On the whole, not only is bear-hunting dangerous sport
under such circumstances, but the game is scarce ; the rein-
deer’s flesh is the mainstay of the native cuzstne, and with
its blood a soup is made which, it must be confessed, never
excited but loathing on the part of our artists.

Should it now be asked how the reindeer manage to live
during the winter, it will be sufficient to say that these
animals are at no trouble to find vegetable food, even under
the thick layer of snow which covers the ground. Besides,
enormous provisions of fodder are stored up before the
cold sets in, and this alone would be enough for the
feeding of the thousands of ruminants contained in the
territories of New Siberia.

“Thousands! .... And to, think that just a score of
them would be such a boon to us!” Mr, Cascabel would
go on repeating to himself, and he wondered how he would
ever replace his lost team.

It seems now opportune to cmphasize the fact that the
inhabitants of the Liakhov archipelago are not idolatrous
only, but extremely superstitious; that they attribute
everything to the divinities they have wrought with their
own hands, and obey them with the blindest servility. ‘This
idolatry is beyond all belief, and the mighty chief Tchou-
Tchouk practised his religion with a fanaticism which had
no equal but that of his subjects.

Each and every day, Tchou-Tchouk repaired to a sort of

258 CAESAR CASCABEL.

temple, or rather sacred place, named the Vorspiik, which
means the “ prayer-grotto.” The divinities, represented by
simple wooden posts, gaudily painted over, stood in a row
in the inmost recess of a rocky cavern, and before them the
natives came and knelt, one after the other. No spirit of
intolerance ever prompted them to close the Vorspiik to
their foreign prisoners ; on the contrary, the latter were in-
vited to it ; and thus it was that Mr. Sergius and his com-
panions could satisfy their curiosity and examine the gods
of these forsaken regions.

On the summit of each post was stuck up the head of
some hideous bird, with round, red eyes, formidable, wide-
open beaks, and bony crests curved round like horns. The
faithful prostrated themselves at the feet of these posts,
applied their ears against them, muttered their prayers, and
although the gods had never vouched an answer, they re-
tired, fully convinced they had heard the reply from above,—
a reply generally in accordance with the secret wish of the
petitioner.

When Tchou-Tchouk thought of laying some new tax on
his subjects, the cunning chieftain never failed to obtain
the celestial approbation ; and where was the man among
his subjects who would have dared deny what the gods
willed ?

One day in each week there was a religious ceremony
more important than the others,—in this way, that the
natives displayed more than ordinary pomp. Let the cold
be never so intense, let snow-drifts whiz along the surface of
the ground like so many sweeps of a mowet’s scythe, no one
would stay indoors when Tchou-Tchouk headed the proces-
sion to the Vorspiik. And will anybody guess how both
men and women accoutered themselves for these grand
solemnities since the capture of the new prisoners? Why,
with the gala dresses of the troupe, of course. The many-
colored tights so nobly worn by Mr, Cascabel ; Cornelia’s

a

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‘

‘
:

: toi and, BA heme hy ee | }
pac ses a eae
e. i aie. -
Arak, sve .

IN WINTER QUARTERS

259

robes, which had once been new; the children’s stage
dresses ; Clovy’s helmet, with its gorgeous plume ; all these
were donned by the Siberian worshipers outside their ordi-
nary wearing apparel. Nor had they forgotten the French
horn, into which one of them blew as though it were for
dear life ; the trombone, out of which another drew impos-
sible noises ; nor yet the drum or the tambourine ; in fact,
all the musical apparatus of the showman’s stock added its
deafening din to the é/at of the ceremony.

It was then Mr. Cascabel thundered against the thieves,
the ruffians, who took such liberties with his property, to the
great danger of breaking the springs of his trombone,
straining his horn, or bursting his drum.

“The wretches !—The wretches!” he would say; and
Mr. Sergius himself was powerless to calm him down.

After all, it must be owned, the situation was of a nature
to sour one’s temper, so slowly, so wearily did the days and
the weeks draw along. And then, what would be the end
of this adventure, if it did come to an end ?

Still, the time that could not now be devoted to rehear-
sals,—and heaven knows if Mr. Cascabel expected his
artists would be rusty when they reached Perm,—that time
was not permitted to slip by unemployed and profitless.

With a view to cause a reaction against low spirits, Mr.
Sergius continually strove to interest his friends with his
tales or his lessons. Asa return, Cascabel had undertaken
to teach him a few tricks of legerdemain, “for his own
pleasure,” he said ; but, in reality, a little proficiency in
that way might be of use to Mr. Sergius if he ever had to
play the showman’s part in actual practice, the better to
deceive the Russian police. As for John, he was busy
completing the young Indian’s course of instruction ; and
she, on her part, strained every nerve to learn to read and
write under the guidance of her teacher.

Let them not be charged with egotism, if both accepted

260 CESAR CASCABETL.

the situation without too much grumbling, absorbed as they
were in a feeling which leaves room for no other. Mr. Ser-
gius was not an unobservant witness of the intimacy which
grew between John and his adopted daughter. Kayette had
such a bright intelligence, and John displayed such zeal in
developing it. Had fate decreed, then, that this honest
fellow, so fond of study, so highly gifted by nature, should
never be aught but an itinerant showman, should never rise
above the sphere in which he was born? ‘That was the
secret of the future ; and what future dared they now look
forward to, prisoners as they were in the hands of a savage
tribe on the utmost confines of the known world ?

No sign was there of any change in Tchou-Tchouk’s
intentions ; a ransom he should have ere he released his
captives ; and there seemed no likelihood of relief from the
outside world. As to the money demanded by the greedy
chief, how could they ever manage to get it?

True, the Cascabels possessed a treasure, unknown to
themselves. It was young Sander’s nugget, his famous
nugget, a priceless treasure in its finder’s eyes. When
there was nobody by, he would draw it out of its hiding-
place ; and how he would gaze on it, and rub it and polish
it! Willingly, ofcourse, he would have parted with it to
buy off the troupe out of Tchou-Tchouk’s hands, but the
latter would never have accepted as ready money a lump of
gold under the shape and form of a stone. So, Sander
kept to his first idea of waiting till they reached Europe,
feeling sure that there he wouid have no trouble in convert-
ing his stone into coin, and compensate his father for the two
thousand dollars that had been stolen from him in America!

Nothing could be better, if the journey to Europe could
only be accomplished! Unfortunately, even a start was, for
the present, out of the question. And this preyed also on
the minds of the two miscreants whom iil-luck had thrown
in the way of the Cascabels.

f os “be 2 ie ‘Gua

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:
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4
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4
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IN WINTER QUARTERS. 261

One day,—the 23d of January,—Ortik went to the ais
Rambler for the very purpose of having “a talk on the mat-
ter’ with the wagon people, and, above all, ascertaining
what they intended doing, in the event of Tchou-Tchouk
permitting them to leave Kotelnoi Island.

“‘ Mr. Sergius,” he began, “‘ when you left Port Clarence,
your intention was to pass the winter in Siberia?”

“Yes,” replied Mr. Sergius, “it was agreed we should
try to reach some good village and stay there till spring-
time. Why do you ask that question, Ortik ?”

“Because I should like to know if you still think of tak-

ing up the same track, supposing, of course, these cursed

savages let us go.”

“Not at all; that would be lengthening needlessly a
journey which is long enough of itself. It would be better,
I think, to make straight for the Russian frontier, and find
out one of the passes in the Ural mountains,”

“Tn the northern part of the chain then?”

“ Quite so, it being the nearest to where we are now.”

“ And the wagon,” continued Ortik ; “would you leave it
here ?”

Mr. Cascabel had evidently understood that part of the
conversation.

“Leave the Fair Rambler here!” he exclaimed. “ Not
a bit of it, if I only can getateam! And I trust, before
long—”

«What, you have an idea?” inquired Mr. Sergius.

“ Not the shadow of one, yet! But Cornelia keeps tell-
ing me I’ll hit on one, and Cornelia’s word was never be-
lied. An A rx woman she is, sir, and she knows me, I tell
you!”

Cascabel was his own old self again, brimful of trust in
his lucky star, and refusing to believe that four Frenchmen
and three Russians could not’ manage to get the better of 4
Tchou-Tchouk,

262 CAESAR CASCABEL.

Mr. Cascabel’s intention with regard to the Fair Rambler
was communicated to Ortik.

“But, to take your wagon with you,” said the sailor, who
showed piel concern on this point, “ you must have a set
of reindeer.”

“We must.’

“ And do you think Tchou-Tchouk will supply you with
them ?”

“ What I think is that Mr. Cascabel will find some plan
to make him do so.”

“Then, you will try to make your way to the coast of
Siberia across the ice-field ?”

a GIStSO.:

“ Well, in that case, sir, you must be away before the ice
begins to break, that is, before three months’ time.”

“TJ am aware of that.”

“ But, can you do it?”

“ Perhaps the natives will consent, in the long run, to let
us off.”

“JT don’t believe they will, Mr. Sergius, so long as you
have no ransom to give them.”

“ Unless the fools are compelled to do so!” exclaimed Mr.
Cascabel, to whom this conversation had just been translated.

“Compelled! By whom?” inquired John.

“ By circumstances ! ”

“‘ Circumstances, father ?”’

“Yes, circumstances,” replied the veteran showman ;
“ circumstances, you see, that’s everything! ”’

And he scratched his head, and almost tore his hair off,
but “not a shadow of an idea,” to use his own words, came
out of his skull.

“Come, my friends,” said Mr. Sergius, “ it is essential we
should prepare for the event of the natives refusing to
restore our liberty. Should we not make an effort to do
without their consent, if they will not give it?”

LN WINTER QUARTERS. 263

* We shall, sir,” answered John. “But then, we must
leave the air Rambler behind

“Don't talk like that!" sobbed Cascabel. “ Don’t talk
like that! You break my heart !”

“ Just think, father !”

“No, I won’t! The Fair Rambler is our home! It is
the roof under which you might have been born, John!
And you would have me leave it at the mercy of those
amphibious creatures, those walruses ! ”

“My dear Cascabel,” said Mr. Sergius, “ we shall do all
that can be done to induce the natives to sét us free. But,
as there seems to be every probability of their refusal, run-
ning away is our only resource ;_ and if ever we succeed in
eluding the watchfulness of our guardians, we can do so
only at the loss of—”

“The home of the Cascabel family!” cried Cascabel.
And if those words had contained as many /’s as they had
consonants, they could not have passed with greater force
through his trembling lips.

“Father,’’ suggested John, “there might be one other
way, perhaps—”

a Wiktat 1s' it?”

“ Why might not one of us try to make his escape to the
continent, and tell the Russian authorities? Fam willing
to start right away, Mr. Sergius.”

“ No such thing,” interrupted Cascabel.

“No, don’t do that!” added Ortik, in a hesitating way,
when he was told John’s proposal.

Mr. Cascabel and the sailor happened to agree on this
point ; but if the former thought of nothing but the danger
Count Narkine would run, should he have any dealings with
the Russian police, it was for his own sake the latter was de-
sirous not to find himself in the presence of the authorities.

As to Mr. Sergius, he took another view of John’s sug-
gestion and said ;

”

264 CAESAR CASCABEL.

“ Well do I recognize you by your acts, my brave-hearted
fellow, and I thank you for thus offering to devote yourself
for us, but your devotion wouid be fruitless. At the pres-
ent time, in the middle of this Arctic winter, venturing
across the ice-field to cover the three hundred miles which
separate this island from the continent would be folly!
You would inevitably perish in the attempt, my poor John !
No, my friends, let us not part from each other ; and if, in
some way or another, we manage to get away from the
Liakhovs, let us go all together !”

“That’s what I call sensible advice !”” added Cascabel ;
“and John must promise me to do nothing in that way
without my permission.”

‘‘T promise you, father.”

“ And when I say we shall go all together,” continued
Mr. Sergius, turning to Ortik, “I mean that Kirschef and
you will both follow us. We shali not leave you in the.
hands of the natives.” ; .

“T thank you, sir,” answered Ortik. ‘“ Kirschef and I
will be of some use to you during the journey through Si-
beria. If, for the present, there is nothing to be done, we
‘must make sure and be ready before the ice breaks up, as
soon as the great cold ceases.”

This last reminder having been given, Ortik withdrew.

“ Yes,” Mr. Sergius continued, ‘“‘ we must be ready—”

“ Be ready we shall,” interrupted Cascabel; “ but how?
May the wolf gobble me up if I know!”

,

And, sure enough, how to take leave of Tchou-Tchouk,
with or without his consent, that was the all-absorbing
question on the order of the day. Eluding the vigilance of
the natives seemed, to say the least, very difficult. Coaxing
the chief to better terms could hardly be thought of. There
was then but one alternative: duping him. Czsar Cascabel
said so twenty times a day ; not a moment did he cease

A GOOD TRICK OF MR. CASCABEL’S. 205

puzzling his brain in that direction ; he would often “ take
his head to pieces,”’ as he said, and examine every nook
and corner of it; and still, the end of January came and
his search had yielded nothing yet.

CHAPTER VII.
A GOOD TRICK OF MR. CASCABEL’S,

ERRIBLE indeed was the beginning of February, a
month when the mercury frequently freezes in the
thermometer. Of course, it was nothing yet like the temper-
ature of the interstellar space, like those two hundred and
seventy-three degrees below zero, which immobilize the
molecules of bodies and constitute the absolute solid
state.

Still, one might readily have {magined that the molecules
in the air no longer glided over each other, that the atmos-
phere was solidified : the air they breathed burnt like fire.
The fall of the thermometrical column was such that the
occupants of the Fair Rambler were compelled to remain
indoors permanently. The sky was spotless; so bright and
clear the constellations shone, it seemed as though the eye
pierced through the farthest depths of the celestial canopy.
As to the light of day, about noon-time it was but a palish
mingling of the morning and the evening iwilight.

This notwithstanding, the natives still braved the weather
in the open air. But what precautions they took to save
their feet, their hands, their noses, from sudden freezing!
They were veritable perambulating bundles of furs. And
what necessity drove them out of their dens under such
climatic conditions? The will of their sovereign, Was it
not imperative to see that the prisoners, who could not now
pay him their daily visit, did not leave his domain ?

266 C4ASAR CASCABEL,

To any ordinary creature this would have seemed alto-
gether superfluous in such weather.

“ Good-evening to you, you amphibious brutes !”’ Mr. Cas-
cabel would say to them, as he looked at them through his
little panes of glass, after removing the icicles from their
internal surface. Then he would add: “ Reaily, those
things must have walrus blood in their veins! ... . Why,
there they come and go where respectable people would be
frozen stark and stiff in five minutes!”

Within the /azr Rambler, which was hermetically closed,
the temperature was maintained at a bearable degree. The
heat from the kitchen stove,—in which they burnt fossil
wood, so as to spare their stock of paraffine oil—permeated
all the little rooms. These, indeed, had to be ventilated
from time to time. But scarcely was the front door opened
when every liquid substance inside the wagon froze instan-
taneously. ‘There was not lessthan forty degrees’ difference
between the inside and the outside temperature,—a fact
that Mr. Sergius could have ascertained, had not the ther-
mometers been stolen by the natives.

By the end of the second week in February the tempera-
ture showed a slight tendency to rise. The wind having
turned to the south, the snow again began to drift over this
part of New Siberia with unequaled fury. Had not the
Fair Rambler been sheltered by high mounds, it could not
have withstood the squall; buried, however, as it was,
deeper than the height of its wheels in the snow, it was now
in perfect safety.

True, there were a few fitful returns of cold, which caused
sudden changes in the state of the atmosphere ; still, about
the middle of the month the average thermometric record
had gone up to some twenty degrees below zero centigrade.

Mr. Sergius, Mr. Cascabel, John, Sander and Clovy
ventured accordingly to take a little outing, while using the
utmost caution to anticipate the evil effects of too abrupt a

A GOOD TRICK OF MR. CASCABEL'S. 267

transition. From the hygienic point of view, this was the
greatest danger they were exposed to.

All the surroundings of the encampment had entirely dis-
appeared under one uniform white carpet, and it was
impossible to recognize any of the inequalities of the
ground; nor was this for want of light, for, during two
hours, the southern horizon was brightened up with a kind
of pale light which was, henceforth, going to increase as the
spring solstice would draw nearer. It then became _possi-
ble to enjoy a few walks, and from the very first, by special
command of Tchou-Tchouk, a visit had to be paid him,

There was no change in the intentions of the stubborn
native. On the contrary, the prisoners were now warned
that they should procure a ransom of three thousand roubles
within the shortest possible delay, or Tchou-Tchouk would
see what was best to be done.

-“ You abominable wretch!” said Cascabel to him in that
pure French vernacular that his majesty did not understand.
“You treble brute !—You king of fools !”"

All these epithets, however applicable to the sovereign of
| the Liakhovs, did not improve the state of things. Anda
| very serious feature in the case was that Tchou-Tchouk
| now threatened vigorous measures. ;

It was at this time that, under the sway of pent-up rage,
Mr. Cascabel was struck with a truly splendid idea.

“ By all the walruses of the Liakhovs !”’ he exclaimed, one
fine morning, “if that trick, that jolly oid trick, could only
succeed !—and why wouldn't it ?—with such fools!”

But although these words had escaped his lips, Mr. Cas-

. cabel deemed it advisable to keep his secret to himself.
| Not a word of it did he tell anybody, not even Mr. Sergius,
| not even Cornelia.

It appears, however, that one of the conditions essential
. to the success of his project was his being able to speak dis-
tinctly the Russian dialect used by the tribes of northern

“s :

268 CESAR CASCABEL.

Siberia. So that, while Kayette was improving her ac-
quaintance with French under the teaching of her friend
John, Mr. Cascabel suddenly undertook to improve his
smattering of Russian under the direction of his friend Ser-
gius. And where could he have found a more devoted
teacher ?

And so, on the 16th of February, whilst taking an airing
round the Fair Raméler, he acquainted the latter with his
desire to learn the language more thoroughly.

“You see,” he said, “as we are going to Russia, it may
be very useful to me to speak Russian ; and [ shall feel
quite at home while we stay at Perm and Nijni.”

“Quite so, my dear Cascabel,” replied Mr. Sergius.
“ Still, with what you already know of our language, you
could almost get along, even now.”

“No, Mr. Sergius, not at all. If I manage to make out
what is said to me at present, I am utterly unable to make
myself understood, and that is just what I should like to
get at.”

“ As you like.” .

“ And, besides, Mr. Sergius, it will kill time for you.”

On the whole, there was nothing to wonder at in Casca-
bel’s proposal, and no one did wonder at it.

And behold him plowing away at his Russian with Mr.
Sergius, keeping at it several hours a day, less, it would seem,
with regard to the grammar of the language than its pro-
nunciation. This was apparently what he specially aimed at.

Now, if Russians learn to speak French with great ease,
and without keeping any of their own accent, it is much
harder for French people to speak the Russian language.
Hence it were difficult to realize all the care Mr. Cascabel
bestowed on his study, all the efforts of articulation he made,
and the powerful utterances with which he made the Fazr
Rambler resound, in order to acquire a perfect pronuncia-
tion of every word he learnt,

VERITABLE PERAMBULATING BUNDLES OF FurRS.—/ age 265

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A GOOD TRICK OF MR. CASCABEL'S. 269

And really, thanks to his natural aptitude for languages, he
made such remarkable progress as to astonish even his staff,

When the lesson was over, away he went on the beach,
and there, where he was sure not to be heard by anybody,
he practised a certain number of sentences ina stentorian
tone of voice, uttering them on different keys, and rolling
his 7’s after Russian style. And God knows if, in the
course of his nomadic career, he had got into the habit of
this full-mouthed oratory.

Sometimes he would meet Ortik and Kirschef, and as
neither of them knew a word of French, he conversed with
them in their own tongue, thus ascertaining that he was
beginning to make himself understood.

These men now came to the Fair Rambler more fre-
quently ; and Kayette, who was always startled by the
sound of Kirschef’s voice, sought in vain to recollect on
what occasion she could have heard it.

Between Ortik and Mr. Sergius the conversation, which
Cascabel was now able to join, turned invariably on the
possibility of leaving the island, and nothing practical could
be devised.

“There may be one opportunity that we have not
thought of yet, and that may present itself,” said Ortik one
day.

“ What is it?” inquired Mr. Sergius.

“When the polar sea opens again,” said the sailor, “it
sometimes happens that whalers pass within sight of the
Liakhov archipelago. If such luck happened us, might we
not make signals to them and induce them to come along-
= shore ?-”

“That would be exposing the crew to become Tchou-
Tchouk’s prisoners, like ourselves, and would not in any
way help us to escape,” answered Mr. Sergius; “ for the
-crew would not be numerous enough and would certainly
fall a prey to the natives.”

270 CESAR CASCABETL,

‘“‘ Besides,” added Cascabel, “the sea will not be free for

three‘or four months more, and I'll never have patience till
then !”
Then he added, after a moment’s thought :

* And again, if ever we could get on board a whaler, even.

with that good old Tchou-Tchouk’s consent, we should
leave the Fair Rambler behind.”

“ That is a parting we shall probably find it difficult to

avoid,” observed Mr. Sergius.

“Probably ?”’ said Cascabel. ‘‘ Nonsense!”

“Could it be you have found something?”

“ Well, well—”’

And Mr. Cascabel said no more. But what a smile
wandered on his lips! What a flash of light brightened up
his countenance !

Cornelia no sooner heard of her husband’s enigmatic
reply than she said :

“Cesar has undoubtedly made out something. What it
is I don’t know. But I am sure he has. After all, from
such a man, it is no wonder !”

“ Father has got more brains than Mr. Tchou-Tchouk !”
added little Napoleona.

“Did you notice,’ observed Sander, “that father has
lately got into the habit of calling him ‘ good old fellow’?
Quite a little pet name—” ;

“Unless it be just the opposite!” suggested Clovy.

And in the mean time, Mr. Cascabel—like Demosthenes
haranguing the Grecian billows—trained his vocal organs
against the roar of the elements on the shore of the frozen
sea.

During the second fortnight in February the temperature
continued to rise uniformly ; the wind kept in the south ;
the currents spreading through the atmosphere were sensi-
bly less cold. There was therefore no time to be lost.

After having to battle with the breaking up of the Beh-

A GOOD TRICK OF MR. CASCABEL'S. a7

ring ice-field, thanks to the late coming of winter, it would
be incredible ill-luck to be now exposed to similar dangers
through the early advent of spring.

In a word, if Cascabel had made a hit, if he did induce
Tchou-Tchouk to let him go with his staff and material,
this should take place while the ice-field was still one solid
mass between the archipelago and the coast of Siberia.
The ice-field being crossed, the Hair Rambler could then,
with a good team of reindeer, cover the first part of her
journey with comparative ease, and no possible breaking up
of frozen seas would now trouble the travelers.

«Say, my dear Cascabel,” Mr. Sergius asked, one day,
“you really do hope that your old rascally Tchou-Tchouk
will supply you with the reindeer you need to draw the
wagon to the continent ?”’

“Mr. Sergius,” said Cascabel with a very serious look,
*“Tchou-Tchouk is not an old rascal! He is, in truth, a
good fellow, an excellent fellow. Now, if he allows us to
depart, he will permit us to take the Hair Rambler with us,
and if he shows us such kindness, he cannot do less than
offering us a score of reindeer, fifty, a hundred, a thousand
reindeer, if I demand them!”

“You have a hold of him, then?”

“ Have I ?—Just as if I held the tip of his nose between
my fingers, Mr. Sergius! And when I catch hold, I catch
hold, I do!”

Ceesar’s attitude was that of a man who is sure of himself,
his smile that of self-satisfaction. On this occasion, he
even went so far as placing the tip of his right hand to his
lips and sending a flying kiss in the direction of Tchou-
Tchouk’s residence. But, feeling that he wished to keep
his own counsels in this matter, Mr. Seftgius had sufficient
tact and good taste not to inquire further.

And now, owing to the return of a milder temperature,
Tchou-Tchouk’s subjects were resuming their habitual

272 C4SAR CASCABEL.

occupations, their bird catching and seal hunting. At the
same time, the religious ceremonies, momentarily sus-
pended during the period of intense cold, brought back
the faithful to the grotto of the idols.

It was on the Friday in each week that the tribe assem-
bled in largest number and with greatest pomp. Friday, it
seems, is the Neo-Siberian Sunday. Now, on this Friday,
the 29th,—1868 was leap-year,—a general procession of all
the natives was to take place.

The previous evening, at bed-time, Mr. Cascabel simply
said :

“To-morrow, let everybody be ready for the Vorspiik
ceremony; we shall all accompany our friend Tchou-
Tchouk.”

“What, Cesar,” said Cornelia, “ you want us to—”

edo

What could be the meaning of so imperative a recom-
mendation ? Did Cascabel hope to win the good graces of
the sovereign of these isles by taking part in his supersti-
tious worship? No doubt Tchou-Tchouk would have been
pleased to see his prisoners paying their homage to the
divinities of the country. But adoring them, embracing the
religion of the natives, was quite another thing, and it was
most unlikely that Mr. Cascabel would go the length of
apostacy for the sake of alluring His Neo-Siberian Majesty.
Fie on the very thought!

Be that as it might, next morning at break of day the
whole tribe was on foot. Glorious weather ; a tempera-
ture marking barely ten degrees below zero; and as much
as four to five hours’ daylight in perspective, with a little
foretaste of sunlight peeping yonder over the horizon.

The inhabitants had come out of their mole-hills. Men,
women, children, old people had put on their Friday-best
sealskin cloaks and reindeer palsks. They presented an
unequaled show of white and black furs, of hats embroid-

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TCHOU-TCHOUK’sS SUBJECTS WERE RESUMING THEIR HABITUAL
OcCUPATIONS.—/age 271.

A GOOD TRICK OF MR. CASCABEL'S. 2
:
ered with imitation pearls, of variegated breastplates, of
leather strips fastened tight around their heads, ear-rings,
bracelets, walrus-bone jewels hanging from their noses,
etc. :

Nor had all this appeared sufficient for so solemn an
occasion. For some of the notables of the tribe had thought
fit to adorn themselves with greater splendor still, ie. with
the various objects stolen out of the Hazr Rambler.

And, sure enough, not to speak of the showman’s tinsel
trumpery that they had decked themselves with, of the
clown’s hats and the dime-museum helmets they had put
on their heads, some wore on a string slung over their
shoulders the steel rings used for juggling exercises, others
had hung on their belts a row of wooden balls and dumb-
bells, finally the great chief Tchou-Tchouk displayed a
barometer on his chest as though it were the insignia of a
new order, created by the sovereigns of New Siberia.

Needless to say the full orchestra of the troupe was there,
the horn vying with the trombone, the tambourine endeavor-
ing to drown the big drum, all mingling in frightful dis-
cord.

Cornelia was no less enraged than her children at the
deafening concert of these artists, to whom “ walruses could
have given points,” as Clovy said.

Well, incredible as it may seem, Mr. Cascabel positively
smiled at the barbarians ; he complimented them, hurrahed
and clapped his hands, shouted ‘‘ Bravo! bravo!’ and would
keep on repeating :

“ Really, these people surpriseme! They are particularly
gifted for music! If they'll only accept engagements In
my troupe I guarantee them enormous success at the Perm
fair and at St. Cloud afterwards.”

Meanwhile, in the middle of this tumult, the procession
was going through the village on its way to the sa red
place, where the idols awaited the homage of their faithful

~4
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274 CESAR CASCABEL,

ones. Tchou-Tchouk walked at their head. Immediately
behind him came Mr. Sergius and Mr. Cascabel, then the
latter’s family and the two Russian sailors, escorted by the
whole population of Tourkef.

The cortége soon stopped before the rocky den in which
stood the gods, wrapped up in gorgeous furs and adorned
with paintings that had been newly “touched up” for the
occasion. —

Then Tchou-Tchouk entered the Vorspiik, his hands
raised heavenward, and after bowing his head three times,
he squatted on a carpet of reindeer skins, spread on the
ground. Such was the way to kneel down in that country.

Mr. Sergius and his companions hastened to imitate the
sovereign, and the whole crowd fell to the ground behind
them.

After all had become silent, Tchou-Tchouk drawled out
a few words half chanted, half spoken, to the three idols.

Suddenly a voice is heard in answer to his invocation, a
distinct, powerful voice, coming from the inner part of the
cavern.

Wonder of wonders! The voice comes out of the beak
of one of the divinities, and this is what it says in Russian :

“Ant sviatt étt tnnostrantet, Katort ote zapada prichii!
Zatchéme ti tkhe podirjaiche 2?”

Which means :

“These strangers, who have come from the West, are
sacred ! Why do you detain them?”

At these words, distinctly heard by all the worshipers,
there was general stupefaction.

It was the first time that the gods of New Siberia con-
descended to speak to their faithful.

Then, a second voice, in a tone of command, issues from
the beak of the idol on the left, and thunders out :

“Ja tibié prikajou etote arrestantof otpoustite. Tvoie
narode doljne dlia tkhe same balchoie vajestvo imiéte t nime

Se

A GOOD TRICK OF MR, CASCABEL'S.

275
addate veié viesctcht Katori ou ikhe bouili vriate. Ja tibéi
prikajou ou stberskoié beregou ikhe lioksché vosvratiteia.”

Three sentences addressed to Tchou-Tchouk, and which
may be translated :

“You are commanded to set these prisoners free! Your
subjects are commanded to show them every kindness and
to restore to them all the objects that have been stolen from
them. All are ordered to help them to reach the coast of
Siberia !”

This time the stupefaction of the audience turned to
terror. Tchou-Tchouk had half-risen on his trembling
knees, his eyes gazing fixedly before him, his mouth
gaping, the fingers of his hands stretched widely apart, in a
paroxysm of fright. The natives, who had also assumed a
semi-standing position, hesitated between kissing mother
earth once more and taking to their heels.

At last, the third divinity, who stood in the middle, begins
to speak in itsturn. But lo, how terrible, how wrathful
and threatening is its voice !

Its words also are aimed directly at His Neo-Siberian
Majesty :

“ Jesle ti take mie sdiclele élote toje same diene, kakda ett
sutati tchéloviéhki boudoute jelaite tchorte s tvoié oblicte !”

That is to say :

“If this be not done on the day when these sacred
people will’ desire it, let your tribe be vowed to celestial
wrath !”

By this time, both the king and his subjects were panting
with affright, and lay almost motionless on the soil, while
Mr. Cascabel, raising his two arms toward the idols in token
of gratitude, thanked them loudly for their divine interven-
tion on his behalf.

And meanwhile his companions made all possible efforts
to refrain from bursting out with laughter.

A simple trick of ventriloquism was the means devised

276 C4ESAR CASCABEL.

by our genius, our truly unsurpassed artist, to bring his
“good, honest fellow” Tchou-Tchouk, to reason.

What more was needed to dupe the superstitious natives ?

“The strangers who have come from the West,”—(what a
happy expression Mr. Cascabel had hit upon),— “the
strangers who have come from the West are sacred! Why
does Tchou-Tchouk detain them?”

He surely would doso no longer! He would let them go
as soon as they liked, and the natives would show all sorts
of kindness to travelers so visibly protected by heaven!

And while Ortik and Kirschef, who knew nothing of Mr.
Cascabel’s talents as a ventriloquist, did not conceal their
real bewilderment, Clovy repeated :

“What a genius my boss is! What brains he has got!
What a man, unless—”

“ Unless he be a god!” exclaimed Cornelia, bowing low
before her husband.

The trick had been played, and it proved a thorough suc-
cess, thanks to the unheard-of credulity of the Neo-Siberian
tribes. This credulity had been judiciously observed by
Cascabel, and that was what had suggested to him the
thought of turning his ventriloquial powers to profit for the
general cause.

It is useless to add that his companions and he were all
led back to their encampment with all the honors due to
“sacred”? men. Tchou-Tchouk, half through fear, half
through respect, was at a loss to know what salutations to
make to them, what compliments to pay them. The Cas-
cabels and the Kotelnoi idols were well-nigh being merged
into one in his mind.

And, in truth, how could these Tourkef people, sunk in
such ignorance as they were, have imagined they were the
dupes ofa juggler? Nota doubt of it, it was the divinities in
the Vorspiik that had sent forth those dreadful utterances.

A GOOD TRICK OF MR. CASCABEL'S 277
It was out of their beaks, hitherto silent, that those injune-
tions in very plain Russian had come. And, besides, had
there not been a precedent? Had not Jako, the parrot, spo-
kentoo? Had not the natives heard in amazement the words
that escaped from his beak? Well, what a bird had done,
why might not bird-headed gods do it also ?

From this day forward, Mr. Sergius, Caesar Cascabel, and
his family, not to forget the two sailors who were claimed
as countrymen, could consider themselves as free. The
winter season was now far advanced and the temperature
was gradually becoming bearable. It was therefore resolved
that no time should be lost in leaving the Liakhov Islands.
Not that there was any reason to fear a change in the
intentions of the natives. They were too thoroughly
“bewitched ” for that.

Mr. Cascabel was now on the best terms with his “ friend
Chicky-Chicky,” who would willingly have blacked his
boots for him, if he had been asked. Of course “ the good
honest fellow’? had seen to the immediate restitution of
all the things stolen out of the Fa’r Rambler. He himself,
on bended knees, had returned to Cesar Cascabel the bar-
ometer he wore around his neck, and the “ sacred man”
had vouched to hold his hand for the religious kiss that
Tchou-Tchouk deposited on it. Did he not consider that
hand capable of hurling forth thunder and lightning and
letting loose the billows and the winds?

In short, by the 8th of March, the preparations for the
departure of the whilom prisoners were completed. Mr.
Cascabel having asked for twenty reindeer, Tchou-Tchouk
had straightway offered him a hundred, which his new
friend declined with thanks, while adhering to his first re-
quest. All he asked for, in addition, was a stock of fodder
sufficient for his team until they had crossed the ice-field.

Early on that day, the “sacred people " took leave of
the natives of Tourkef, The whole tribe had collected

oo

“2

Lee CC

278 CESAR CASCABEL.

to be present at their departure and wish them a safe
journey.

“ Dear Chicky-Chicky ” was there, in the foremost rank,
trembling with genuine excitement. Mr. Cascabel advanced
toward him and giving him agentle tap on his chest, simply
said to him in French :

fta-ta, old brute!

That familiar tap was destined to raise His Majesty still
higher in the estimation of his subjects.

Ten days later, on the 18th of March, after journeying
without danger or fatigue over the ice-field which joined
Liakhov Archipelago to the Siberian coast, the occupants of
the Fair Rambler reached the continent, at the mouth of
the Lena.

After so many incidents and accidents, so many dangers
and adventures since their departure from Port Clarence,
Mr. Sergius and his friends had at last set foot on the main-
land of Asia.

CHAPTER Vill
THE COUNTRY OF THE IAKOUTS.

HF original itinerary, such as it was to be followed from

the Behring Strait to the European frontier, had been

necessarily modified by the long drift and the subsequent
landing at the archipelago of New Siberia.

Crossing Asiatic Russia in its southern part was now out
of the question. Besides, the fine season would presently
improve the condition of the climate, and there would be no
need for the projected winter quarters in a Siberian village.
Indeed, it may be said that the issue of the recent events
had been as favorable as wonderful.

Now the problem to be studied was the direction to be
taken, so as to reach the Ural frontier between Russia in

a ke

-THE COUNTRY OF THE JAKOUTS. 279

Europe and Russia in Asia, in the shortest possible time,
And that question Mr. Sergius had determined to solve
before leaving the encampment they had just made on the
coast.

The weather was calm and clear. Now that the solsti-
tial period was at its full, daylight lasted for more than
eleven hours, and was, in a kind of way, still further pro-
longed by the twilight, which keeps on for a considerable
time in the seventieth parallel.

The little caravan was now composed of ten persons,
Kirschef and Ortik having joined it, as has been remarked.
Although there was no very intimate sympathy between
them and their companions, the two Russian sailors were
among the protégés of the Fair Rambler ; they had their
place around the common table ; it was even agreed they
should sleep inside the wagon so long as the temperature
would not permit them to sleep in the open air.

_ For the mean temperature still kept within a few degrees
below zero,—a fact it was easy to ascertain since the “ ami-
able Chicky-Chicky’’ had restored the thermometer to its
legitimate owner. The ground, as far as the eye could
reach, was entirely buried under an immense winding-sheet,
and would remain so until the April sun would shine upon
it. On this hardened snow, as well as on the grassy plains
of the steppes, the team of reindeer would be well able to
draw the heavy wagon along.
Thus far the provision of fodder so graciously supplied
by the Kotelnoi natives had been amply sufficient for the
cattle ; henceforth, what with the moss that they root out
from under the snow, what with the leaves of the shrubs
scattered here and there on the soil of Siberia, they would
provide their own food themselves. Nor should we omit
to put it on record, that during the trip across the ice-field,
the new team had shown great docility, and Clovy had
experienced no difficulty in driving them,

280 CHESAR CASCABEL.

The travelers’ food was equally assured, thanks to the
stock of preserves, flour, grease, rice, tea, biscuits, and
brandy, which was still safe in the Hazr Rambler. Cornelia
had, moreover, at her disposal, a certain quantity of native-
made butter, packed in small boxes of birch-wood, which
friend Chicky-Chicky had presented to friend Cascabel ;
all they needed to renew was their provision of paraffine
oil, and that could be done at the first village they came
to. Besides, fresh game would soon rise on their track,
and many a time would Mr. Sergius and John have an
opportunity to utilize their skill, to the profit of the kitchen.

The help of the two Russian sailors was also to be taken
into account. They had stated that the northern regions
of Siberia were partly familiar to them, and there was every
appearance of their proving useful guides.

This, indeed, was the subject of the conversation which
was held in the encampment at the above date.

“As you have gone through this country before,” said
Mr. Sergius to Ortik, “you are going to direct us—”

“ Tt is the least I might do,” hastily replied Ortik; ‘“see-
ing that it is thanks to Mr. Cascabel we are free men
again.”

“ Thanks to me ?”’ exclaimed Cascabel. ‘“ Not a bit, but
thanks to nature enabling my .vocal apparatus to take
excursion trips up and down my internal organization.”

“ Ortik,” continued Mr. Sergius, “what direction do you
advise us to take when we leave the bay of the Lena?”

“The shortest cut, if you please, Mr. Sergius. If it isa
disadvantage to give a wide berth to the large towns in the
more southerly districts, we shali feel at least that we are
making straight for the Ural chain. Besides, there are any
number of villages on the way in which you can renew
your provisions, or even make a stay, if that is necessary.”

“What would be the use of that?’’ asked Cascabel.
* We have no business stopping in villages. The great

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THE COUNTRY OF THE IAKOUTS. 281

point is to lose no time and push on ahead as fast as we
can. The country is not a dangerous one to go through, I
guess ?”’

“ Not at all,” answered Ortik.

“ Besides, we are in sufficient force, and woe betide the
wretches who would attack our Fair Rambler! They
would have cause to be sorry for it!”

“ Be easy about that, Mr. Cascabel,” fas aS Kirschef.
“There is nothing to be feared.”

It may have been noticed that this Kirschef spoke but
seldom. An unsociable fellow, sullen and taciturn, he
usually let his companion “do the talking business.”
Ortik was evidently gifted with more intelligence than he,
indeed with more real intelligence, as Mr. Sergius had
remarked on several occasions.

On the whole, the itinerary proposed by Ortik was such
as to suit everybody. Avoiding the important towns, where
they might fall in with military posts, was a suggestion
which recommended itself to Count Narkine, at the same
time as it was particularly agreeable to the two would-be
sailors.

The general plan once adopted in principle, they had
only to examine the various provinces through which they
should strike obliquely, between the Lena and the Urals.

John, therefore, produced the map of Northern Siberia ;
Mr. Sergius made a careful study of those parts where the
Siberian rivers are rather an obstacle than a help to travelers
westward ; and this is what was agreed upon:

To cross the Iakout district, where villages are few and
far between, in a southwesterly direction.

To pass thus from the basin of the Lena to that of the
Anabara, and thence to those of the Khatanga, the lenisei,
and the Obi, say a distance of some two thousand two
hundred miles.

To journey on through the basin of the Obi to the Ural

282 CZSAR CASCABEL.

Mountains, the natural frontier of Russia in Europe, a
shorter trip of less than four hundred miles.

Lastly, to continue southwest for another three hundred
miles, and thus reach Perm.

This meant, in round numbers, three thousand miles.

Should they experience no delay along the road, should
there be no obligatory stay in any of the villages, this dis-
tance could be covered under four months. From twenty
to twenty-five miles a day was not too much to expect from
the team, and under such conditions, the Fazr Rambler
would be at Perm, and afterwards at Nijni, by the middle
of July, just at the time when the famous fair would be at
its highest.

“Will you come with us right up to Perm?” asked Mr.
Sergius, turning to Ortik.

“ Tt is not likely,” answered the sailor. “ After crossing
the frontier, my idea would be to strike out for St. Peters-
burg, and from there make my way to Riga.”

“That’s all right,” remarked Mr. Cascabel. “But let
us get to the frontier first.” i

It had been previously resolved that they would halt for
“a good twenty-four hours,” as soon as they set foot on
the continent. Such a halt was fully justified by their
rapid transit across the ice-field, and so the whole of that
day was given to rest.

The Lena throws itself into the gulf of that name

through a zig-zag network of mouths, separated by a mul-
titude of channels and creeks.

The waters poured into the Arctic Sea by this beautiful
river have been gathered from a number of tributaries over
a distance of 4500 miles. Its basin is considered as meas-
uring no less than a hundred and five millions of hectares.

The map having been thoroughly examined, Mr. Sergius
deemed it best that they should follow, at first, the coast
line of the bay, so as to ayoid the many channel-mouths of

7
vate &

THE COUNTRY OF THE IAKOUTS. 283
the Lena. Although the waters were still frozen, it would
have been unwise to venture in sucha maze. A chaos of
huge blocks had been accumulated there by winter, and
picturesque as were the veritable icebergs with which they
were overtopped, they would have been none the less dif-
ficult to journey through.

Beyond the bay, on the contrary, lay the boundless
steppe, hardly relieved here and there by the merest risé
on its surface ; here, the journey would be accomplished
with ease.

No doubt of it, Ortik and Kirschef must have been fre-
quently through these countries before. Their companions
had remarked it more than once since they had left their
prison quarters. These two sailors were quite expert
hands at organizing an encampment, and at constructing a
good ice-hut in case of need. They knew, as well as the
native fishermen along the coast, how to cause the absorp-
tion of the dampness contained in their clothing by burying
them under the snow; they were never at loss to distin-
guish between the blocks produced by the freezing of salt
water and those due to the congealing of soft water; in
fine, they seemed to have on their fingers’ ends all those
“tips and points” familiar to Arctic travelers.

That evening, after supper, the conversation, bearing not
unnaturally on the géography of the north of Siberia, led
Ortik to relate how himself and Kirschef had come through
these parts.

“How is it,” asked Mr. Sergius, “that you sailors
should have tramped through this country ?”

“Mr. Sergius,” he replied, “two years ago, Kirschef,
half a score of sailors, and myself, were at Arkhangel,
waiting to get aboard some whaler, when we were hired to
go to the relief of a ship that was in distress among the
icebergs, north of the mouth of the Lena. Well, it is on
our way from Arkhangel to this bay that we followed the

284 CAESAR CASCABEL.

northern coast of Siberia. When we reached the Seraskz,

we managed to set her afloat again, and we remained:

aboard for the fishing season. But, as I told you, she was
wrecked that same season, and out of the whole crew,
Kirschef and I were the only survivors. It was then we
were driven by the storm on to the Liakhov Islands, where
you found us.”

“And you were never in the Alaskan provinces ?” in-
quired Kayette, who, it ‘will be remembered, spoke and
understood Russian.

“ Alaska?” said Ortik. ‘“ That’s a country in America,
isn’t it?”

“Ves,” said Mr. Sergius. ‘It lies in the northwest of
the New World, it is Kayette’s native country. Did your
fishing excursions ever take you in that direction?”

“ Don’t know that part at all,” replied Ortik, in the most
natural tone of voice.

“We never went beyond the Strait of Behring,” added
Kirschef.

Once again the latter’s voice produced its usual effect on
the young woman, though she was utterly unable to recollect
where she could have heard it. Inany case, it could only
have been in Alaska, since she had never been out of the
country before.

However, after so explicit a reply from Ortik and Kir-
schef, Kayette, with that reserve natural to those of her
race, asked no other question. But none the less, a preju-
dice—nay, an instinctive mistrust, toward the two sailors—
remained fixed in her mind.

During this twenty-four hours’ halt, the reindeer had

been able to take all the rest they needed. Fettered though
they were, they could go about, in the neighborhood of the
encampment, and had been busy nibbling the shrubs and
unearthing the mosses.

On the 2zoth of March, the little caravan set out at eight

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THE REINDEER HAD BEEN YOKED FOUR ABREAST . .

VHE COUNTRY OF THE IAKOUTS. 285

o’clock in the morning. The weather was bright and clear,
the wind blowing from the northeast. ‘he reindeer had
been yoked four abreast, by means of a well-devised system
of traces. They thus proceeded in four rows, guided on
one side by Ortik and on the other by Clovy.

For six days they journeyed on without any occurrence
worthy of mention. ‘The most of the time, Mr. Sergius and
Cascabel, John and Sander, went on foot throughout the
whole day, and, now and then, Cornelia, Napoleona, and
Kayette joined them, when no home duty kept them
indoors.

Each forenoon, the Fair Rambler covered a hoes, a
Siberian measure of distance equivalent to twenty versts,
say about eight miles. In the afternoon, its record was
about the same, which made up five good leagues per day.

The 2oth, after crossing on the ice the little river Olenek,
Mr. Sergius and his companions reached the village of
Maksimova, forty-two leagues southwest of the gulf of
Lena.

There was no harm in Mr. Sergius stopping in this
village, away in the extreme corner of the northern
steppe. There was no Captain-Governor, no military, post
occupied by Cossacks ; no cause of fear for Count Nar-
kine’s safety.

They were in the heart of the Iakout country, and the
Cascabel party met with a kindly welcome at the hands of
the inhabitants of Maksimova.

This country, hilly and wooded in the east and south,
offers in the north nothing but vast level plains, enlivened
here and there by a few clumps of trees, whose green foliage
would soon be developed by the warm season. These
plains produce an enormous quantity of hay, this being due
to the fact that, while winter is very cold in hyperborean
Siberia, the temperature is excessive during the summer
months.

286 \, CESAR CASCABEL.

Here thrives a population of a hundred thousand Iakouts,
who keep up the practices of the Russian rite. A religious,
hospitable, moral people, they are grateful to Providence
for the gifts they receive from her, and full of resignation
when her hand weighs heavy upon them.

Along the road from Lena Bay to this village, a certain
number of Siberian nomads had been met. ‘They were
strongly built men, of average height, flat-faced, dark-eyed,
with thick heads of hair and no beard. ‘The same types
were found at Maksimova ; their intelligence, their peaceful,
sociable habits, and their industry, struck the visitors.

Those of the Iakouts who lead a nomadic life, always on
horseback and always fully armed, are the owners of the
numerous flocks scattered over the steppe. Those who
live in the sedentary homes of the hamlets and villages are
particularly given to fishing, and “make a living” out of
the well-stocked waters of the thousand streams that the
big river absorbs on its way to the sea.

However, gifted though they be with so many public and
private virtues, they are too ready, it must be confessed, to
make an excessive use of tobacco, and—what is of more
consequence—of brandy and other spirituous liquors.

“To acertain extent they are excusable,” observed John.
“For three whole months they have nothing but water to
drink, and the bark of the pine tree to eat.”

While the nomads inhabit “ yourts,’” a kind of cone-
shaped tent, made of some white woven stuff, the seden-
tary tribes occupy wooden houses, constructed according
to the taste and the requirements of each one. These
houses are kept with care; the slope of the roofs is very
steep, and thus aids the melting of the snow under the rays
of the April sun.

Hence, this village of Maksimova has quite a smiling
appearance. ‘The men are of a pleasant type ; ‘their coun-
tenance is open, they look straight in one’s eyes, and their

a

THE COUNTRY OF THE IAKOUTS. 287
, ia
{ physiognomy is not devoid of a certain air of pride. The
women seem graceful and rather pretty, though tattooed.
Very reserved in their ways and habits, they would never

let themselves be seen bareheaded or barefooted.

The party was cordially received by the Iakout chiefs,

the &znoes, as they are styled, and by the elders, or s/arsynas,
that is, the notables of the place. Each of them would fain
have given the new-comers free board and lodging; but,
while thanking them for their kindness, Cornelia would hear
of no other than money transactions, and among other
things she gladly purchased a provision of oil, her stock of
q which was no longer equal to the possible demands of her
| culinary department.
% On this occasion, of course, as on every other, the Fair
Rambler had produced its usual effect. Never had a show-
man’s wagon been seen in this country. Many were the
visits paid to it by natives of both sexes, and there was no
cause to regret having granted them the privilege. In this
province, indeed, thieving is very uncommon, even from
strangers. And should it occur, immediate punishment
overtakes the offender. As soon as convicted, he is
scourged before the public ; then after the physical chastise-
ment comes the moral punishment; branded for the re-
mainder of his life with the stain of his guilt, the culprit is
deprived of all civil rights and can never again recover the
title of “ honest man.”’

On the 3d of April, our travelers stood on the banks of
the Oden, a small river which throws itself into the Gulf of
Anabara after a course of a hundred and fifty miles.

The weather, hitherto very favorable, began to show signs
of achange. Presently, a heavy fall of rain occurred, the
first effect of which was to begin the melting of the snow.
It lasted for a whole week, during which the wagon had to
sludge its way through mire and dangerous swamps when-
ever it had to pass through marshy localities. Thus did

288 CAESAR CASCABEL.

spring herald itself in this high latitude, with a tempera-
ture averaging two or three degrees above zero.

This stage occasioned great fatigue to our wayfarers.
But they had every reason to congratulate themselves on
the co-operation of the two Russian sailors, who proved as
devoted as truly useful.

On the 8th following, the Fazr Rambler had reached the
right bank of the river Anabara, some forty leagues from
Maksimova.

They were still in time to cross the stream on the ice,
although the field had commenced to break lower down.
They could even from this place hear the noise of the blocks
rumbling away toward the gulf ; one week later, they would
have had to seek a practicable ford,—which would have
been no easy task, for the waters rise very rapidly with the
melting of the snows.

Already the steppe, grown green once more, was getting
carpeted with a crop of fresh grass very welcome to the
team. The shrubs were budding. Before three weeks, the
first leaflets would have burst out of their little cradles,
along the stems. Nature was restoring new life, too, to the
poor skeletons of the trees, that had been reduced to the
state of dried wood by the cold of winter. Here and there,
a few groves of birches and larch trees bowed their heads
more readily under the softened breath of the breeze. All
this hyperborean vegetation was reviving in the heat of
the sun.

The provinces of Siberia in Asia are all the less desert,
according as they are farther removed from the coast.
Sometimes our troupe would meet a collector, on his way
to gather the tax from village to village. They would stop
and exchange a few words with the itinerant government
official. He generally was not slow to accept the glass of
vodka that was offered him ; and then, with a hearty “ safe
home!” each party would go on its way.

ONE WEEK OF RAIN, THROUGH MIRE AND SWAMPS.- 287

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THE COUNTRY OF THE IAKOUTS. 289

One particular day the Mar Raméler fell in with a “con-
voy” of prisoners. The unfortunate wretches, sentenced
to the salt-boiling establishments, were being led to the
eastern confines of Siberia, and their Cossack escort spared
them no evil treatment. Needless tosay that Mr. Sergius’s
presence gave rise to no comment on the part of the com-
mander of the escort; but Kayette, always suspicious of
the Russian sailors, thought she noticed that they were
anxious not to attract the attention of the Cossacks.

On the roth of April, the wagon halted on the right bank
of the Khatanga, which throws itself into the gulf of the
same name. No more ice-bridge this time, no means of
walking dry-footed to the opposite shore. A few drifting
blocks were the last remnants of the breaking up of the ice.
A fordable spot should needs be found, and a considerable
delay might have ensued, had not Ortik discovered one
about half a verst up stream. Nor was the river crossed
without difficulty, the wagon being sunk into the water up
to the axle-trees; this done, however, another stage of
some seventy-five miles brought the Far Rambler to the
Lake lege.

What a contrast, here, with the monotonous aspect of the
steppe! It looked like an oasis in the middle of the sands
of Sahara. Leta sheet of limpid water be imagined, with a
girdle of evergreen trees, of pines and fir.trees, clumps of
-shrubs in all the brightness of their fresh verdure, purple
whortleberries, black “ camarines,” red currant trees, and
briers just crowned by spring with budding flowers. .

Under the cover of the thickish underwood, clustering
yonder on the east and west of the lake, Wagram and
Marengo will surely be at no loss to raise some game, be it
a quadruped or a fowl, if Mr. Cascabel will only let them
ferret about for a couple of hours.

And besides, on the surface of the lake, geese, ducks,
and swans are swimming in numerous bands. Overhead,

ee Pat.
st

290 CAASAR“CASCABEL.

couples of cranes and storks swoop through the air, on their
way fromthe central parts of Asia. The beholder would
well-nigh clap his hands with delight, at a sight so full of
charms.

On the proposal of Mr. Sergius, it was agreed they should
make a two days’ halt amid this landscape. ‘The encamp-
ment was pitched at the head of the lake, under shelter of
some tall pine-trees, the tops of which arched over the
water’s edge.

Then the sportsmen of the troupe, followed by Wagram,
“took their guns and away,” after promising not to go too
far. A quarter of an hour had scarce elapsed when their
gun-shots commenced to be heard.

In the mean time, Mr. Cascabel and Sander, Ortik and
Kirschef, resolved to try what a little fishing would bring
along the bank of the lake. ‘Their implements consisted
merely of a few lines supplied with hooks, which they had
bought from the natives at Port Clarence ; but what more
was required by fishermen worthy of the great art, and en-
dowed with sufficient intelligence to cope with the cunning
of a fish, and with patience enough to wait until he con-
descends to bite at their bait.

In reality, this last accomplishment was hardly necessary
on the day in question ; scarcely had the hooks reached a
suitable depth when the floats at once began to bob at the
surface of the water. So abundant was the fish that enough
could have been caught in half a day to replace the meat
on one’s table from one end of Lent to the other. Young
Sander was beside himself with delight ; so much so, indeed,
that when Napoleona came over and asked him to let her
have the rod in her turn, he would not grant her request.
This led to an argument and subsequently to the inter-
vention of Cornelia. ‘The latter, considering the fishing
pastime had lasted long enough, ordered both the children

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Ir LOOKED LIKE AN OASIS .

THE COUNTRY OF THE TAKOUTS 291

and their father to gather up their tackle, and when Cor-
nelia gave an order no time should be lost in complying
with it.

Two hours later, Mr. Sergius and his friend John re-
turned with their dog, who seemed to cast a wistful look of
regret behind him at the half-explored thickets,

The sportsmen had not been less fortunate than the fish-
ermen.' For several days to come, the bill of fare would
be as varied as excellent, what with the fish of Lake lege
and especially the splendid game indigenous to those terri-
tories of upper Siberia.

Among others, the sportsmen had brought home a num-
ber of those “ karallys,” which move about in companies,
and a few couples of those silly little birds called “ dikou-
tas,’ that are smaller than the wood-hen, but whose flesh
is exquisite.

It is easy to imagine what a sumptuous dinner was pre-
pared that day. The table had been laid under the trees,
but none of the guests noticed that it was somewhat cool to
banquet in the Open air. Cornelia had surpassed herself
with her grilled fish and roasted game. And as the sup-
ply of flour had been renewed at the last village, as well as
the provision of Iakout butter, no wonder if the cak® of
former days, with its golden brown crust, made its appear-
ance at dessert-time. Each one had a few good sips of
brandy-wine, thanks to certain flasks that the villagers of
Maksimova had consented to part with, and the day came
to a close without any cloud darkening its restful peace.

One would readily have believed that the period of trials
was over, and that the famous journey would be accom-
plished.to the greater honor and profit of the Cascabel
family !

Next day was another day of rest, which the reindeer
most religiously observed by incessant feeding.

On the 24th of April, at six in the morning, the Fair

202 C4SAR CASCABEL,

Rambler was under way again, and four days after, the
western confines of the Iakout district had been reached.

CHAPTER IX.
RIGHT ON TO THE OBI.

T is useful to revert to the situation of the two Russians

that some evil genius had thrown in the path of the
Cascabel family.

It might be thought that, grateful for the welcome they
had met with, Ortik and Kirschef had returned to better
sentiments. No such thing had come to pass. After the
many crimes they had already committed under Karnof,
the wretches thought of nothing but fresh atrocities.

Their immediate aim was to get possession of the Far
Rambler and of the money restored by Tchou-Tchouk ;
then, having re-entered Russian soil under the disguise of
showmen, they would resume their horrible life.

Now to carry out these plans, they should first “ get rid”
of their traveling companions, of the kind-hearted people
to whom they were indebted for their liberty; this they
would feel no hesitation about. But they would be unable
to execute their designs without help; this is why they
were making directly for one of the Ural passes frequented
by the former accomplices of their evil deeds ; there they
would find as many lawless recruits as they needed to over-
power the entire staff of the Fatr Rambler.

Meanwhile, who could have suspected them of harboring
such abominable intentions? ‘They showed the utmost
readiness to make themselves useful, and not a word of
complaint had ever been uttered against them. While in-
spiring no sympathy, they aroused at least no feeling of
‘mistrust,—save in the mind of Kayette, who could not over-

aT ae

RIGHT ON TO THE OBI. 293

come the first impression they had made upon her, Just
for a moment the thought had flashed across her brain that
it was on the night when Mr. Sergius had been assaulted on
the Alaskan frontier that she had heard Kirschef's voice.
But how could she believe that the murderers were the
very two sailors they had afterwards found, nearly four
thousand miles away from the spot, on one of the islands
of the Liakhov Archipelago? So, while watching them
closely, Kayette took good care to communicate her sus-
picions, in appearance so unlikely, to no one.

And now it is not amiss to mention, likewise, that if
Ortik and Kirschef were suspicious in the eyes of the young
girl, they, too, had their mischief-brooding instincts of curi-
osity aroused by Mr. Sergius’s presence in the caravan.
That a traveler, dangerously wounded on the frontier of
Alaska, should have been picked up, nursed, and conveyed
to Sitka by the Cascabels, was very natural. But, after his
recovery, why had he not remained at Sitka? Why had he
- followed the showman’s troupe to Port Clarence? Why
was he even now accompanying them right across Siberia ?
The presence of a Russian in the ranks of itinerant artists
was, to say the least, a strange occurrence.

And, one day, Ortik had whispered to Kirschef :

“Say, might not this fellow, Sergius, be trying to get
back to Russia unknown to anybody? What do you say?
May be there’d be something to be got out of that! I vote
_ we keep our weather eye open on him.”

And without suspecting it, Count Narkine was being
spied by Ortik with a view to find his secret out.

On the 23d of April, the travelers left the Iakout district
and entered the territory of the Ostiaks. A miserable, half-
civilized tribe these are, though this part of Siberia contains

several rich tracts,—among others that of Bérézoy. As
they passed through the villages of this region, they could

294 CHESAR CASCABEL.

perceive how different they were from the attractive pictur-
esqueness of the Iakout hamlets. Repulsive dens, hardiy
fit for cattle, where it were scarce possible to breathe,—and
what an atmosphere !

Where else, indeed, could more loathsome beings be
found than these natives, the following description of whom
was read by John out of his “ General Geography ”’:

“The Ostiaks of upper Siberia wear a double garment
to preserve themselves against the cold: it consists of a
thick layer of greasy dirt on their skin and the hide of a
reindeer over it.”

As to their food, it is composed almost exclusively of
half-raw fish and of meat which never undergoes any cook-
ing process whatever.

Fortunately, the habits of the nomads—whose flocks are,
here, also, scattered about over the steppe—do not exist in
the same degree among the inhabitants of the chief vil-
lages. ‘Thus at Starokhantaskii, our party found a popula-
tion that was somewhat more presentable, though inhospit-
able and ill-disposed toward strangers.

The women, tattooed with bluish designs, wore the vako-
cham, a kind of red veil with blue stripes, a gaudily colored
skirt, a lighter-shaded corset, whose defective make deforms
their figure, and beneath it a wide belt, ornamented with
round bells, which jingle at every movement they make,
like the bells on the harness of a Spanish mule.

As to the men, during the winter season—and some of
them still wore the winter fashions+they positively look
like wild beasts, entirely wrapped up as they are in hides,
the hair of which is turned outward. Their heads are cov-
ered over with the hood of the ma/tza and the parka, in
which mere slits have been made for the eyes, the mouth,
and the ears. Impossible to see one feature of their faces,
however easily one might bear the privation. .

Several times, along the road, our party met some of

bEucor ic

SLEDS DRAWN BY THREE REINDEER . . .—Page 295.

ee a oS ee

RIGHT ON TO THE OBI. 29

uw

those sleds, locally styled warkes, and usually drawn by

three reindeer which, unincumbered by any other harness
than a simple leather trace, which is passed under their
chest, and a single rein fastened to their horns, can run on
for twenty or twenty-five miles without taking breath.

Such perfomances were not to be expected from the team
of the azr Ramébler ; and in truth there was no cause to
complain of their services, which were really valuable.

Commenting upon them, Mr. Sergius happened to remark,
one day, that it might be prudent, perhaps, to substitute
horses for them, as soon as they could get them:

“What, put horses in their place!”” answered Mr. Cas-
cabel. “Why so? Do you not think these animals will.
be able to bring us all the way to Russia?”

“Tf we were going to the north of Russia,” replied Mr.
Sergius, ‘I should feel no anxiety ; but central Russia is*
very different. These reindeer support heat with great
difficulty ; it seems to overwhelm them and to render them
unfit for any labor. And, as a proof, about the end of
April, you see numerous flocks of them making their way
toward the northern territories, and more especially the upper
plateaux of the Ural, which are always covered with snow.”

“Well, we shall see when we reach the frontier. My
word, it will cost me something to part with them! Just
imagine the effect, if I entered the Perm fair with twenty
reindeer yoked to the chariot of the Cascabel family!
What an impression it would create! What a glowing
advertisement !”’

“ Evidently, it would be splendid,” said Mr. Sergius with
a smile.

“ Triumphal, sir! Triumphal is the word! and, while
we are on the subject, it is quite understood, of course, that
Count Narkine is a member of my troupe, and that, an
opportunity offering, he will have no objection to perform
before the public?”

296 CAESAR CASCABEL.

“ That's understood.” :

“ Then you must not neglect your legerdemain lessons,
Mr. Sergius. As you are supposed to be practising for
your own pleasure, neither my children nor the two sailors
can feel surprised at it. And, do you know, you are getting
on wonderfully quick !”’

“ How could I help it with such a teacher as I have, friend
Cascabel ?”

“TI beg your pardon, Mr. Sergius, but I give you my
word you possess very remarkable natural dispositions for
the art. With a little practice, you would become a first-
_ class juggler, and make money at ib too 17

On May the 6th, the Ienisei was sighted, some three
hundred miles from lake lege.

The Ienisei is one of the chief rivers of the Siberian con-
tinent, and throws itself into the Arctic Sea on the gulf of
the same name, under the seventieth parallel.

By this time, not one iceberg was left on the surface of
the wide river. A large ferry, for the use of vehicles as
well as passengers, from one bank to the other, enabled the
little caravan to cross the stream with its full complement of
men and cattle, but at the cost of a rather heavy toll.

On the other side, the steppe again with its endless hori-
zons. Not unfrequently, groups of Ostiaks might be seen
performing their religious duties. Although most of them
have been baptized, the Christian religion seems to have no
very strong hold on them, and they still continue to kneel
before the heathenish idols of the Shaitans. ‘These are
human-faced idols, hewn in large blocks of wood, a small
model of which, ornamented with a brass cross, is to be
found in every house, nay, in every cabin.

It would appear that the Ostiak priests, the Scha-mans,
as they are called, derive a good living out of this double-
sided religion, not to speak of the great influence they wield

RIGHT ON 70 THE OBI.

297

over these fanatics, at the same time Christians and idola-
ters. None but an eye-witness could believe the e
ness with which these unfortunates wriggle and struggle
like people in epileptic fits, in the presence of their idols.

The first time young Sander saw a half-dozen of those
possessed beings, he of course proceeded at once to imi-
tate them, walking on his hands, disjointing his hips,
bending backward, capering heels over head like a clown,
and winding up his performance with a series of frog-
leaps.

“T see, my child,” said the father, who had instantly
turned his critical eye on the exercises, “that you have
lost none of your suppleness. That's right, that's right !
We must not get rusty! Think of the Perm fair! The
honor of the Cascabel family is at stake!”

On the whole, the journey had proceeded without too
much fatigue since the “air Rambler had left the mouth of
the Lena. Sometimes a detour had to be made round
thick forests of pines and birch trees, which varied the
monotony of the plains, but through which there was no
beaten track.

Indeed, the country was almost desert. Miles of ground
were traversed without meeting a hamlet or even a farm.
The population is extremely scarce, and the Bérézoy dis-
trict, which is the richest, does not contain more than
15,000 inhabitants on an area of 3000 kilometers. By
way of compensation, and probably for that very reason,
the region swarms with game.

Mr. Sergius and John could, therefore, indulge their
sporting tastes.to their hearts’ content, at the same time as
they stocked up Mrs. Cascabel’s larder. Most part of the
time they were accompanied by Ortik, who gave proofs of
remarkable skill. It is by thousands that the hares scour
the plains, not to mention the feathered tribe, the numbers
of which are countless, Elks, too, there were, and deer

arnest-

:=—s" at 2 Se ee eee
.

298 CHAASAR CASCABEL.

and wild reindeer, and even huge-sized boars, formidable
brutes, which our gunmen prudently abstained from dis-
turbing.

As to birds, there were ducks and plungeons, geese,
thrushes, heath-hens and hazel-hens, storks, and white par-
tridges. Quite a variety, as may be seen! Hence, when-
ever a shot had been wasted on a slightly inferior game,
Cornelia did not hesitate to throw it to the dogs, who gladly
received their mistress’s gift.

This abundance of fresh game naturally resulted in good
living ; such good living indeed that Mr, Cascabel was in-
clined to preach sobriety to his artists.

“ Children, take care you don’t get fat,” he would repeat
to them. “Fat is the ruin of your joints. It is the bane
of the acrobat! You eat too much! Come, moderate
your appetite! Sander, I do believe you are getting
stout! Stout at your age, for shame!”

“ Father, I assure you !”’

“None of your protestations. I have a great inind to
measure you around the body every evening, and if I find
any sign of embonpoint, I'll take the fat out of you !—It’s
just like that fellow Clovy! A blind man would see the fat
accumulating on him!”

“On me, boss ?”

“ Yes,onyou! And aclown has no business to get fat,
especially when he rejoices in the name of Clovy! Why,
in no time you'll be as round as a beer-barrel !'”

“ Unless, in my old days, I turn.to a plantation pole!”
replied Clovy, as he tightened his belt one hole higher.

The Fair Rambler had soon to get over the Taz, which
pours out its waters into the gulf of Ienisei, just about the
point where our itinerary cut the Arctic polar circle to enter
the temperate zone. It may be seen thereby how obliquely
it had leaned to the southwest since the Liakhov Islands
had been left behind,

'

{
4
YMA

yes, 1/ (i

RIGHT ON TO THE OBI. 299

. In this connection, Mr. Sergius, who always fourd an
' appreciative audience, thought it right to explain what this
_ polar circle was, beyond which, during summer, the sun
never rises more than twenty-three degrees above the
horizon.
John, who already possessed certain notions of cosmog-
raphy, understood the explanation. But despite all the
efforts of his intellectual powers, Mr. Cascabel was unable
to get that polar circle into his brain.

“In the way of circles,” he said, “those I know best are
the hoops that the riders jump through, round the ring !
After all, that is no reason why we should not drink the
very good health of this one!”

And accordingly, the toast of the polar circle was hon-
ored with a good bottle of brandy-wine, just as the line
is féted when ships cross from one hemisphere to the
other.

The Taz was not crossed without some difficulty. No
ferry plied across this little river and a fordable spot had to
be found,—which required several hours. Again did the
two Russians display the greatest zeal; and on several oc-
casions, the wheels of the wagon having sunk into the soft
bed of the stream, they readily set to work, with water up
to their waist.

Less trouble was experienced, on the 16th of May, to get
to the other bank of the Pour, a narrow river with a shallow
bed and a slow current.

By the beginning of June the heat had become excessive,
a fact which always seems anomalous in countries belong:
ing to so high a latitude. During the last fortnight of the
month, the thermometer marked from twenty-five to thirty
degrees. As there was no shade whatever along the steppe,
Mr. Sergius and his companions were severely taxed by
this temperature. Even the night did not temper the
sultriness of the day, for, at that period, the sun hardly

300 C4SAR CASCABEL.

disappeared beneath the horizon of these immense plains.
After a slight dip to the north, its disk, like a ball of iron
at white heat, at once rises again to resume its daily course.

“ That nasty sun!’’ Cornelia went on repeating, as she
wiped the perspiration from her face. “What an oven we
are in! If we only could have had this in winter !”

“ Then, winter would have been summer,” remarked Mr.
Sergius.

“Just so!” said Cascabel. “But what strikes me as
bad management is, that we have not one single lump of
ice to cool ourselves with, after having had considerably
more than we needed, for whole months together.”

“ Come, friend Cascabel, if we had ice, it would be a sign
that the weather was cold, and if it was cold—”

“Tt would not be hot! You are always right, Mr.
Sergius!”

‘Unless it was half and half!” Clovy deemed it right
to add.

“That would be better still! ’’ continued Mr. Cascabel
“ All the same, it’s powerfully hot!”

It must not be supposed that the sportsmen had laid up
their guns, for all that. The only difference was that they
started very early in the morning, and a capital plan they
found it. Indeed, they were rewarded, one day, with a
splendid capture, all the honor of which fell to John. So
large was this game that they had some trouble to fetch it
home. Its coat was short; in the front part of the body,
the hair was reddish and looked as if it had been gray
during the winter months; along its back ran a yellow
streak ; its long horns curved gracefully over its head.

“ What a beautiful reindeer!’ exclaimed Sander.

“Oh, John!” said Napoleona, with a tinge of reproach
in her voice, “ why did you kill a reindeer?”

“ To eat it, my little pet.”

* And I am so fond of them,”

Oe ee Pe

RIGHT*ON TO THE OBL. 301

“Why,” rejoined Sander, “since you are so fond of them
you can eat as much of this one as you like; there will be
enough for everybody!”

“Don’t fret about it, my darling,” said Mr. Sergius.
“That animal is not a reindeer!”

** What is it, then ?”’ asked the child.

“ Tt is an argali.”

Mr. Sergius spoke true. These animals, which inhabit
the mountains during winter and the plains in summer, are,
strictly speaking, overgrown sheep.

“ Very well,” observed Mr. Cascabel, “ since it is a sheep,
Cornelia, we shall have mutton chops on the gridiron, if you
please.”

_And it was done accordingly. And as the flesh of the
argali is extremely savory, it is probable that the manager
of the troupe may have acquired, on that day, a little more
embonpoint than was in accordance with the exigencies of
his profession.

From this point forward, the track of the Fair Rambler
toward the Obi lay through an almost barren country.
The Ostiak villages became scarcer and scarcer; seldom
did they meet, here and there, a few groups of nomads
migrating toward the Eastern provinces. Nor was it with-
out good reasons that Mr. Sergius sought in preference the
least populated parts of this district ; and it was important
to avoid the large town of Berezov, situated a little beyond
the Obi. Incased within a magnificent forest of cedars
spread out in terrace fashion on the flank of a steep hill,
surmounted by the steeple of its two churches, watered by the
Sosva, on which incessantly ply the numerous vessels of the
trading community, this city, with its two hundred houses,
is the center of a largely frequented market, to which are
conveyed the products of northern Siberia,

It was evident that the arrival of the Fair Raméler at

Berezovy would of necessity attract the curiosity of the

302 CAESAR CASCABEL.

public, and the police would not have failed to scrutinize
rather closely the individual members of the Cascabel
family. Better keep away from Berezov and even from the
district of that name. Policemen are policemen; and,
especially when they are Cossacks, it is more prudent to
have no dealings with them.

This disinclination, however, on the part of Mr. Sergius,
to pass by Berezov did not escape the notice of Ortik and
Kirschef, and confirmed their suspicions that he was a
Russian trying to re-enter Russia secretly.

The first week of the month of June had gone by when a
slight modification was made in the itinerary, in order to
cut to the north of Berezov. It was, at most, a detour of
some thirty miles; and, on the 16th of the month, after
having for some time followed the stream of a large river,
the little caravan encamped on its right bank.

This river was the Obi.

The Fair Rambler had covered close on five hundred and
fifty miles since it had left the basin of the Pour. A dis-
tance of barely three hundred miles now separated it from
the European frontier. The chain of the Urals, the parti-
tion line between these two parts of the world, would soon
terminate the horizon.

CHAPTER X.
FROM THE OBI TO THE URAL MOUNTAINS.

HE Obi, fed by the waters of the Ural on the west, and

by numerous tributaries on the east, spreads over a

distance of 4500 kilometers, and its basin does not contain
less than 330,000,000 hectares.

Geographically speaking, this river might have served as

a natural boundary line between Asia and Europe, if the

Pte ns

Lal OME :
Kees
FROM THE OBI TO URAL MOUNTAINS 303

Urals had not stood a little to the west of its course
From the sixtieth degree of latitude the river and the
mountain run almost parallel. And whilst the Obi goes
and throws itself into the vast gulf of that name, the ex-
treme ramifications of the Ural are sunk deep beneath the
Sea of Kara.

Mr. Sergius and his companions, standing on its right
bank, contemplated the course of the river and the many
willow-tufted islets with which it is dotted. Close to the
river bank, aquatic plants waved to and fro their sharp-
edged blades, now bright with fresh blooms. Up and down
the stream, numbers of vessels glided along the cool and
limpid waters, purified by their passage through the filter of
the mountains, where they have their springs.

The boat service was regularly organized on this im-
portant artery, and, in consequence, the Farr Rambler was
able to reach Mouji village, on the opposite bank, easily.

It is, in truth, but a small village, and as such was safe
for Count Narkine, not being used as a military post. It
was, however, becoming urgent to obtain duly legalized
documents ; for, the foot of the mountains was now within
short distance, and the Russian authorities insisted on see-
ing the papers of every traveler who presented himself at
the frontier. Mr. Cascabel, accordingly, resolved to get
his papers duly “regularized” by the Mayor of Mouji:
This formality having been fulfilled, Mr. Sergius, being com-
prised among the artists of the troupe, would succeed in
entering the territory of the Russian empire without arous-
ing the suspicions of the police.

Why should a deplorable misadventure have compromised
a plan that seemed so easy of execution? Why were Ortik

and Kirschef there, determined to mar its success? Why

were they on the eve of bringing the Hair Ramdler through
one of the most dangerous passes of the Ural, where they
would surely fall in with whole bands of malefactors ?

304 C4SAR CASCABEL,

And, meanwhile, Mr. Cascabel, who little dreamt of such
a denouement, and could not therefore do anything to pre-
vent it, congratulated himself on the successful prospects
of his bold undertaking. After making his way through
Western America and the whole of Northern Asia, here he
was within 300 miles of the European frontier! His wife
and his children, in perfect health, showed no signs of the
fatigues of so long a journey. ‘True, he had felt his cour-
age fail at the time of the catastrophe in Behring Strait and
during the drift on the Polar Sea; but he had proved
himself more than a match for the “fools” on Liakhov
Islands, and had made them enable the /azr Rambler to
continue its journey through the continent.

“Verily, God does well what he does!” he would often
say to himself.

A stay of twenty-four hours in this village of Mouji had
been agreed upon. The inhabitants gave a cordial greet-
ing to the new-comers, and Mr. Cascabel received, in its
time, the visit of the gorodintschy, or mayor of the locality.

This official personage, somewhat distrustful of stran-
gers, deemed it his duty to ask a few questions of the head
of the family. The latter at once produced his “ census
paper,” on which Mr. Sergius was entered as one of the
troupe. i

The worthy mayor was not without a little feeling of sur-
prise at seeing a countryman of his among French per-
formers ; for he had not failed to remark that Mr. Sergius
was a Russian, and he drew Cascabel’s attention to the fact.

The latter begged of him to observe that if there was a
Russian among them, there was likewise an American in
the person of Clovy, and an Indian in the person of Kay-
ette. He was never concerned with the nationality of
his artists ; the all-important question with him was their
talents. And he immediately added that the said artists

1... FROM THE OB! TO URAL MOUNTAINS. 395

would be but too happy if His Worship the Mayor,—this
sounded better on Cesar Cascabel’s lips than gorodin-
tschy,—if His Worship the Mayor would kindly permit
them to perform in his presence !”

His Worship was highly gratified by the proposal, which
he straightway accepted, and promised to sign the papers
after the performance.

As to Ortik and Kirschef, as they were entered on the
list as shipwrecked Russian sailors on their way home, no
difficulty was made about them,

Accordingly, in the course of the same evening, the whole
troupe repaired to the residence of the gorodintschy.,

It was a pretty large house, with a fine coat of yellow
paint, in remembrance of Alexander I., who was particu-
larly fond of that color. On the wall of the drawing-room
hung an image of the Virgin Mary, accompanied by the
portraits of some Russian saints, looking their best in their
silvered frames. Benches and stools had been placed in
readiness for the mayor, his wife, and his three daughters.
Half a dozen notables of the locality had been invited to
share the enjoyment of this soirée, while the simple rate-
payers of Mouji, huddled around the house, had the privi-
lege of peeping in through the windows.

The Cascabel family was greeted with much sympathy,
The exercises were commenced, and no one would have
thought that the performers had neglected their rehearsals
for several weeks. Young Sandez’s dislocations were highly
appreciated, as was Napoleona’s gracefulness ; she had no
tight rope at her disposal, and executed a step de circon-
stance, to the delight of the spectators. With his bottle
juggling, his plates, his rings, and his balls, John astonished

the beholders. After which, Mr. Cascabel’s exhibition of

muscular power proved him the worthy husband of Cornelia,

who, on this occasion, carried two of the Mouji notables on
:

her outstretched arms.

306 CESAR CASCABEL.

As to Mr. Sergius, he very cleverly went through several
legerdemain tricks which his eminent professor had taught
him,—not uselessly, as *t now appeared. No doubt could
now exist in His Worship’s mind regarding the genuineness
of this Russian’s engagement in the itinerant troupe.

Jams, currant cakes, and excellent tea were then served
all round. Then, the soirée having come to an end, the
mayor signed without hesitation all the papers that Casca-
bel presented to him. The Fazr Rambler was now legally
in a position to face the Russian authorities.

It is worthy of notice, moreover, that the good mayor, a
man in easy circumstances, felt bound to offer Mr. Casca-
bel a score of roubles in return for his performance.

Mr. Cascabel felt inclined, at first, to decline any re-
numeration ; but, on the part of an itinerant showman, this
might have seemed a strange proceeding.

“ After all,” he said to himself, “ twenty roubles is twenty
roubles ! ”

And with a“ world of thanks ” he pocketed the sum.

The following day was devoted to rest. There werea
few purchases to make, of flour, rice, butter, and various
drinks, which Cornelia was able to obtain at reasonable
prices. She would not think of renewing her stock of
preserves in this poor village; but game was likely to be
plentiful between the Obi and the European frontier.

By twelve o'clock, all the “shopping” had been done.
Dinner-time came, and around the festive board there were
two very sad hearts. Did not John and Kayette see the
time draw near when they should part ?

What would Mr. Sergius do when he had seen his father,
Prince Narkine? It being impossible for him to remain in
Russia, would he set out again for America, or would he
stay in Europe? All this, it may be surmised, gave Casca- ©
bel great food for reflection. He would fain have his mind
fixed on the subject, and accordingly, that same day after

HAM tir

A TIMELY CRY OF ALARM,—fage 313.

Dee eee
é ae Mi . ur x?

cn yy ; at i

FROM THE OBI TO URAL MOUNTAINS, 307

dinner, he asked Mr. Sergius if he would care to “come out
for a stroll.”

The latter, feeling that his friend wished to havea private
talk with him, readily acceded to the proposal.

Just then the two sailors were bidding good-by to the
family, intending, they said, to wind up the day at some
tavern or another in the village.

And so, Mr. Sergius and Mr. Cascabel left the Fair
Rambler, walked a few hundred paces out of the village and
sat down by the edge of a small wood.

“Mr. Sergius,” said Czesar, ‘if I have asked you to take
a little ramble, it is because I would like to havea few
words with you, by ourselves, concerning your situation—”

“My situation, my friend !”

“Or rather what your situation will compel you to do
when you are in Russia.”

“Tn Russia?”

“Well, Iam not wrong,—am I ?—in reckoning that we
shall be on the other side of the Urals in about ten days,
and that we shall reach Perm in a week’s time after that ?””
_“That’s very probable, if there is no obstacle in the
Way.”

‘Obstacles! Not one obstacle will there be!” replied
Cascabel. ‘You will cross the frontier without the shadow
of a difficulty ! Our papers are in due form, you belong to
my troupe, and who would ever dream that Count Narkine
is one of my artists ?”’

_ “Nobody, of course, since the secret has been told to no
living*soul but Mrs. Cascabel and yourself, and that it has
been kept—’”’

“ As sacred as if she and I had carried it to our graves,”
interrupted the showman, with much genuine dignity,
_ “And now, Mr. Sergius, would it be an indiscretion on my
_ part to ask you what you propose doing when the Fair
Rambler halts in the streets of Perm?”

308 CHESAR CASCABEL,

‘‘T shall make all haste to the chateau of Walska, to see
my father!” burst from the lips of Mr. Sergius. “It will
be a great joy for him, a very unexpected joy, for it is now
thirteen months since he has heard from me ; thirteen long
months since I had my last opportunity of writing to him!
What must be his thoughts!”

“Do you intend making a pretty long stay with Prince
Narkine ?”’

“That depends on circumstances that I cannot foresee.
If my presence at home is suspected, I may see myself
compelled to leave my father !—And still,—at his age—”

“ Mr. Sergius, it is not for me to give you any advice.
Better than any one else you know how you should act.
But, let me beg of you to observe that you will be exposed
to very great dangers if you remain in Russia! Should
you ever be discovered, your very life would be at
Stake";

“T know that, friend, just as I know the dangers that
would threaten you and yours if ever the police came to
know that you have aided my return on Russian soil !”

“As to that, my folks and myself are out of consideration
in this matter.”

“Not at all, my dear Cascabel, and I shall never forget
what all of you have done for me!”

“That is all right and square, Mr. Sergius ; we did not
come here to exchange protestations of friendship. Come!
We must have an understanding about what you mean to
do at Perm.”

“Nothing simpler! Since I am one of your troupe, I
shall stay with you so as to arouse no suspicion.”

“ But Prince Narkine—?”

“ Walska is but six versts out of town, and each evening,
when the performance is over, I can easily make my way
there, without being noticed. Our servants would let them-
selves be killed before they would betray or compromise

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FROM THE OBI TO URAL MOUNTAINS. 309

their master. Thus I can spend a few hours with my father
and return to Perm before daybreak.”

“That's settled, Mr. Sergius, and so long as we stay in
Perm things will get on smoothly, I hope. But when the
fair comes to a close, and when the Fair Rambler sets sail
for Nijni, and then for France—”

That, evidently, was the knotty point. What would
Count Narkine determine to do after the Cascabels had
left Perm? Would he remain concealed at the chateau of
Walska? Would he still keep on Russian territory, at the
risk of being discovered? Mr. Cascabel’s inquiry was
definite.

“* My dear friend,” replied Mr. Sergius to him, “ many a
time and oft have I asked myself that question: ‘What
shall I do?’ and to. this day I am utterly unable to answer
it; that is all Icansay toyou. Myconduct will be dictated
by circumstances.”

“Well then,” continued Mr. Cascabel, “ suppose you were
obliged to leave Walska, suppose you could not remain in
Russia, where your liberty, your very life would be in danger,
do let me ask you, Mr. Sergius, if you would think of re-
turning to America.”

“T have formed no plan whatever in that direction,” was
the count’s reply.
= “Pray, Mr. Sergius, excuse me if I insist. Why might
you not come to France with us? By continuing in my
troupe, you could pass the western frontier without danger.
Would not this be the safest plan? And then, in that way,

_» we would have you a little longer with us, and our dear lit-

tle Kayette, too !—Not that I would take her from you, the
poor child! She is, and she will be, your adopted daugh-
ter, sir; and that is rather better than being a sister to

’ John, Sander, and Napoleona, the children of ashowman !
“ My friend,” replied Mr. Sergius, “let us not speak of

_ -what the future may have in store for us. Who knows if it

310 CAESAR CASCABEL.

will not grant to each of us the wish of his own heart?
Let us now see to the present, that is the essential point !
What I can say to you with certainty—but pray breathe not
a word of it to any one—is, that in the event of my being
compelled to leave Russia, I should be very happy to retire
to France, and there wait until some political event might,
perchance, alter my position. And then, as it is home you
are now going—”

“That’s it! That’s it! You'll come Zome with me!”
burst out Czesar Cascabel, and he had clutched the exile’s
hand, and hugged it, and pressed it, as though he would fain
rivet it to his own.

At length they returned to the encampment, where the
two sailors did not put in an appearance till the next day.

Off went the team at early morn and struck for the west.

For the several days that followed, the heat was very
great. Already the first undulations of the Ural chain
began to be felt, and the gradual rising of the ground told
severely on the reindeer, already oppressed by the tempera-
ture.

Onthe 28th of June, over two hundred miles from the
Obi, the Fair Rambler entered the little village of Verniky.
Here a peremptory demand for the papers was followed by
their immediate production, to the complete satisfaction of
the authorities. Then the wagon resumed its course to-
ward the chain of the Ural, two peaks of which, the Telpoes
and the Nintchour, rose over yonder horizon to a height of
from four to five thousand feet.

No great speed was made; yet there was no time to be
lost, so as to be in Perm for the best part of the fair.

In view, indeed, of the performances to be given there,
Mr. Cascabel now insisted on everybody rehearsing his
exercises. It was their duty to keep intact the fame of
French acrobats, artists, gymnasts, equilibrists, and clowns
in general and the reputation of the Cascabel family in par-

ne —

FROM THE OBI TO URAL MOUNTAINS. gir

ticular. And hence, the artists had now to get into training
during the evening halts. Mr. Sergius himself toiled and
moiled toward perfection in those card-tricks and sleights
of hand for which his teacher had discovered in him such a
wonderful natural aptitude.

“What an artist you would have made!" he would con-
tinually say to him.

On the 3d of July, the troupe encamped in a clearing
encircled with birch trees, pines, and larch trees, overtopped
by the alpine-like crests of the Ural.

It was on the following day that they were to venture
into one of the passes of the chain under the guidance of
Ortik and Kirschef, and they foresaw if not serious fatigues
at least very uphill work, in more senses than one, until the
highest level of the gorge had been attained.

As this part of the frontier, usually frequented by smug-
glers and deserters, was not very safe, they would do well
to keep continually on the defensive; and certain measures
were adopted with an eye thereto.

In the course of the evening the conversation fell on the
difficulties that might have to be encountered during the

crossing of the mountain. Ortik loudly stated that the

pass he had indicated, a pass named the Petchora, was one of
the most practicable along the whole chain. He knew it
for having gone through it when Kirschef and he were on
their way from Arkhangel to the Baltic Sea, going to the
relief of the Seraskz.

While Mr. Sergius and Ortik were engaged on this sub-
ject, Cornelia, Napoleona, and Kayette were busy with the
supper. An appetizing quarter of a deer was roasting be-
fore a fire that had been lit under the trees, and a rice pud-
ding was acquiring its due golden-brown tint in a tin laid
on a heap of live coals.

“TI do hope there will be no complaints about the bill of

fare to-night !” said the good housewife,

312 CAESAR CASCABEL.

“ Unless the roast and the pudding get burnt!” Clovy
felt bound to suggest.

“ And why should they get burnt, Mr. Clovy?” asked
Cornelia, “if you only take care to keep on turning the spit
of the one and stirring the tin of the other!”

Clovy took the hint, and began mounting his guard.
Wagram and Marengo kept him company by the fire, and
John Bull, too, squatted hard by, licking his lips in antici-
pation of his share of the banquet.

In due time supper was laid and gave rise to a veritable
concert of praise, which Cornelia and her help received with
genuine satisfaction.

When bedtime came, as the temperature had risen still
higher, Mr. Sergius, Cesar Cascabel and his two sons,
Clovy and the two sailors said they would sleep out in the
clearing under shelter of the trees. ' It would, besides, be
easier for them to watch over the Hair Rambler.

Cornelia, Kayette, and Napoleona alone sought the com-
fort of their little couches indoors.

With a July twilight, the duration of which seems indefi-
nite in this seventieth parallel, it was after eleven o'clock
when the ‘night had about fallenn—a moonless night, be-
sprinkled with stars, drowned, so to say, in the mists of the
upper zones.

Stretched on the grass, and wrapped up in blankets, Mr.
Sergius and his companions felt their eyelids close in their
first sleep when the two dogs began to give various tokens
of agitation. They would sniff the air repeatedly, and would
growl in that peculiar way so expressive of extreme uneasi-
ness.

John stood up first and cast a look around the clear-
ing.

The fire was dying away and profound darkness reigned
under the thick canopy of the trees. John made a closer
survey and thought he saw luminous dots moving about,

FROM THE OBI TO URAL MOUNTAINS 313
like so many red coals, in the dark. Wagram and Marengo
were now barking loudly.

Danger!” cried out John. “Danger!”

In a moment the sleepers were on their feet.

“What is it ?”’ asked his father.

“ Look there, father!” said John, pointing to the shining
spots, now still and motionless in the dark background of
the thicket.

“What can those be ?”’

““Wolves’ eyes!”

“Yes, they are wolves !’’ said Ortik.

*« And a whole band of them!” added Mr. Sergius.

“ By Jove!” exclaimed Mr. Cascabel.

“ By Jove!” was an inadequate expression to convey
the full gravity of the situation. There might be hundreds
of wolves all around the clearing ; and these animals are
truly formidable when they are in large numbers.

Just then Cornelia, Kayette, and Napoleona appeared at
the door of the Fair Rambler.

“‘ Well, father ?”’ inquired the little girl.

“ Tt’s nothing, only wolves having a little stroll by moon-
light! Stay where you are, and just hand us our guns to
keep them at a safe distance.”

Immediately guns and revolvers were cocked,

“Call back the dogs!” said Mr. Sergius.

Wagram and Marengo, who had ventured toward the
edge of the wood, came back at Jolin’s bidding, a prey toa
terror which it was hard to control.

A general volley was fired in the direction of the lumi-
nous points, and frightful howls showed that most of the
shots had hit their marks.

But the number of wolves must have been considerable,
for the circle seemed to close around, and a half hundred
_of them invaded the clearing.

“Quick! Back to the wagon !* exclaimed Mr. Sergius.

314 CAESAR CASCABEL.

“ They are coming down upon us! There alone can we
defend ourselves !”"

“What about the reindeer ?”” remarked John.

“We can do nothing to save them!”

And sure enough, it was now too late. Already some of
the animals had been devoured, whilst the others had bro-
ken their fetters and run away into the depths of the wood.

On Mr. Sergius’s order, all retired inside the Hazr Ram-
bler with the two dogs, and the front door was closed.

It was high time! In the glimmer of the twilight the
wolves could be seen bounding against the vehicle and
leaping up to the height of the windows.

“ What will become of us now, without a team?” Cor-
nelia could not help saying.

“Let us get rid of this legion, first!” replied Mr. Ser-
gius.

“Surely we'll manage to do that, somehow ; come!”
exclaimed her husband.

“Yes, if there ‘are not too many of them,’ remarked
Ortik.

“And suppose we don’t run short of powder,” added
Kirschef.

“ Tn the mean time, fire !’’ ordered’ Mr. Sergius.

And a murderous discharge flew through the half-
opened windows. By the light of the shots fired from the
two sides and the back of the wagon, they saw a score of
wolves lying on the ground, either mortally or grievously
wounded. But nothing seemed to check the rage of the
brutes; their number appeared in no way lessened, and
several hundreds of them by this time crowded the clearing,
now alive with their restless silhouettes.

_ Some had crept under the wagon and endeavored to
claw the panels out. Others had leaped on the front plat-
form and would have burst the door open, had it not been
barricaded from the inside just in time, Others again had

et a

| FROM THE OBI TO URAL MOUNTAINS. 315
even climbed on to the roof, leaned over the ledge down to
the windows, struck at them with their paws, and persisted
in their mad attempt until a bullet brought them to the
ground.

Napoleona, greatly frightened, could not be kept from
crying aloud. The fear of the wolf, so intense among
children, was, in her case, but too fully justified in the
present instance. Kayette, who was cool and composed, in
vain endeavored to calm her little friend. Nor did Mrs.
Cascabel herself, it must be confessed, feel very sanguine
on the issue of this veritable battle.

As a matter of fact, should the assault continue much
longer, the situation would become more and more danger-
ous. How could the Fair Rambler withstand the efforts of
these numberless wolves? And, should it ever be upset,
would not the horrible mangling of all its occupants be the
inevitable consequence? Now the “engagement” had
lasted for about half an hour when Kirschef suddenly
growled:

“ There'll be no more ammunition, presently !”

Some twenty cartridges were all that remained for the
supply of the rifles and the revolvers.

“We must not fire, now,” said Mr. Cascabel, “ except
when we are sure of our mark.”

Sure of their mark? .... Did not every shot hit its
mark inthis mass of assailants? Unfortunately the wolves
were far more numerous than the bullets ; their numbers
kept on increasing while the firearms would soon be re-
duced to silence. What would be done then? Wait for
daylight ? And what if the light of day did not put the
wolves to flight ?

It was then that Mr. Cascabel, brandishing his revolver,
so soon fated to be useless, cried out:

“‘T have an idea!”

“ An idea?” inquired Mr. Sergius.

316 CAESAR CASCABEL.

“ Yes, anda good one! The only thing isto capture one
or two of those devils.”

“ How will you do that ?”’ asked Cornelia.

“We shall just half-open the door with great caution
and seize on the first two that will try to force their way
mi,

“Do you really mean it, Cascabel ?”

“ What risk do we run, Mr. Sergius? A few bites? Well,
I'd rather be bitten than torn to pieces.”

“Very well; then let it be done quickly!’’ said Mr.
Sergius, though he did not exactly know what Cascabel was
about.

The latter, with Ortik, Clovy and Kirschef behind him,
posted himself in the first compartment while John and
Sander kept back the dogs in the innermost one, where the
women had been ordered to stay.

The articles of furniture, used to bar the door, were re-
moved, and Mr. Cascabel opened it in such a way as to be
able to shut it again quickly.

At that very moment a dozen wolves, crowding thé plat-
form and hanging on to the steps, were positively storming
the forepart of the wagon.

No sooner was the door ajar than one of them rushed in
headlong. Kirschef closed it again immediately.

In a trice Mr. Cascabel had overpowered the animal,
with Ortik’s help, and thrown over his head a piece of cloth
he had provided himself with, and which he fastened tightly
round its neck.

The door was opened a second time ; and a second wolf
underwent the same treatment as the first.

It needed the united efforts of Clovy, Ortik, and Kirschef
to keep the raging brutes under control.

“ Above all, don’t kill them,’’ Mr. Cascabel would say to
them; ‘and hold them tight!”

Not kill them? .., , What on earth did he mean to do

AWAY THE Two WOLVES WER!
THE AlIR.—/age 317.

- FROM THE OBI TO URAL MOUNTAINS 317

| with them? Give them an engagement in his troupe for

= the Pernt fair?

sf What he meant to do, what he did do with them, his
companions were not long to know.

The next moment a flame of fire lit up the compartment,
which was filled, at the same time, with frantic howls of
pain ; one of the windows was thrown wide open, and away
the two wolves were hurled through the air,

The effect produced by their appearance among the be-
siegers could be seen all the better as the clearing now
gradually filled with moving torches.

Cascabel had thoroughly soaked the two wolves with
paraffine and then set them ablaze; and it was in that state

they had joined their companions.

Well, that idea of Mr. Cascabel’s had been a grand idea,
| like all those that came out of his wonderful head. The
. wolves, maddened with terror, were all taking to flight,

away from the two burning animals. And what yells they
uttered now, far more terrible than those which had been
heard at the beginning of the attack! In vain did the two
paraffined brutes struggle to extinguish their blazing fur,
blinded as they were by the hood tied over their heads. In
vain they rolled themselves on the ground and leaped
about in the middle of the band ; the fire was unquench-
able.

At last, the whole panic-stricken legion quitted the en-
campment, rushed out of the clearing, and disappeared in
the depths of the wood.

The howls became fewer, and finally silence reigned all
round the Far Rambler. .

By way of precaution, Mr. Sergius recommended his

_ friends to wait till daylight before venturing forth to recon-
noiter. But, in reality, no new attack was to be dreaded,
The enemy had dispersed, and was fleeing as fast as w ives’
legs could run.

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318 C4ESAR CASCABEL.

“ Ah, Cesar !”’ sobbed Cornelia, as she threw herself in
her husband’s arms.

“Ah, my friend!” said Mr. Sergius.

“ Ah, father !’’ exclaimed the children.

“ Ah, boss!” blubbered Clovy.

“ Well, well, what’s it all about ?” quietly replied Cas-
cabel. “If a man had no more brains than wolves, what
would be the use of being a man?”

CHAPTER. Xf.
THE URAL MOUNTAINS.

Rage chain of the Ural is deserving of the tourist’s
visit, quite as much, at least,as are the Pyrenees and
the Alps. In the language of the Tartars, the word
“ Ural” signifies ‘ belt,” and here we have, in very truth, a
belt stretching from the Caspian to the Arctic Sea over a
distance of 2900 kilometers,—a belt ornamented with pre-
cious stones, enriched with fine metals, gold, silver and
platinum,—a belt girt around the loins of the old continent,
between Asia and Europe. A vast orographic system, it
pours its waters through the beds of the Ural River, the
Kara, the Petchora, the Kama, and a number of tributaries
fed by the melting of the snows. A superb barrier of
granite and quartz, it shoots up its needles and peaks to an
average height of 2300 yards above the level of the ocean.

To our travelers, the Urals were suggestive of other
thoughts besides.

And, first of all, while crossing the chain they would find
it difficult to avoid those villages, those zavodys, those
numerous hamlets, the population of which owes its origin
to the former workmen employed in the mines. On the
other hand, on its way through these grand defiles, Mr.

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THE URAL MOUNTAINS. 319

Cascabel’s troupe need have no fear of military posts, since
their papers were duly legalized. And even though they
had struck the range in its central part, they would have
had no hesitation to follow the beautiful Ekaterinburg road,
one of the most frequented in that region, so as to emerge
from the mountain on the territory of the government of
that name. But, since Ortik’s itinerary had brought them
farther north, it was better to enter the pass of the Pet-
chora, and go down, afterwards, as far as Perm,

That is what they proposed doing on the very next
morning.

When daylight came, they were able to ascertain how
considerable the number of their assailants had been.
Should they have succeeded in forcing their way into the
Fair Rambler, not one of its occupants would have sur-
vived the carnage.

Two or three scores of wolves lay dead on the ground,—
of those large-sized wolves, so formidable to the wayfarers
across the steppe. The main body had fled as if the devil
was after them; and even he could hardly have “ made it
hotter’ for them. As to the two paraffined animals, their
charred remains were discovered a few hundred paces away
from the clearing. _

And now, one question had to be solved : at this end of
the Petchora pass, the air Rambler was at a considerable
distance from the nearest zavody, for there are few of them
on the eastern side of the Ural.

“ How shall we manage?” asked John. “ Our reindeer
have run away—”’

“Tf they had only run away,” answered Mr. Cascabel,

“we might perhaps get them back again; but it is very

probable the poor things were devoured last night !"’
“Yes, the poor things!’ repeated Napoleona. “ I was

so fond of them; just as fond as I was of Vermont and

Gladiator.”

320 C4ASAR CASCABEL,

“ And they would have been food for the wolves, if they
had not drowned,” said Sander. y

“Just what would have happened them!” added Cesar
Cascabel, heaving adeep sigh. ‘“ But how are we to replace
our deer?”

“T shall start off at once to the nearest village,” said Mr.
Sergius, “and get horses at any price. If Ortik can show
me the way—”’

“ Ready to go when you like, sir,” replied Ortik.

“ Evidently,” added Cascabel, “that is the only thing
to be: done!”

And it would have been done, that same morning, if, to
the astonishment of all, two of the reindeer had not been
seen coming back across the clearing about eight o'clock.

Sander was the first to perceive them. :

“Father!” he cried, “father! Here they are! They
are coming home !”’

“What, alive?”

“Well, these two don’t look as if they had been entirely
devoured, since they walk—’”’

“ Unless the wolves had left them their legs !’’ suggested
Clovy.

“ Oh, the good creatures!"’ exclaimed Napoleona. “I
must go and give them a kiss!”

And running to her two lost pets, she threw her arms
around their necks and embraced them heartily.

But, alas, two of them could not have drawn the Fair
Rambler. Luckily, several others presently began to appear
by the edge of the wood, and, within an hour, fourteen had
mustered back out of the twenty that had come from
Tourkeff.

“Hurrah for the reindeer!’ shouted young Sander.
“Only, it’s a pity they don’t know what I’m crying out!”

The six animals, now missing, had been devoured by the
wolves ere they had time to snap their fetters off, and their

THE URAL MOUNTAINS. 32 I

_Carcasses were afterwards found in the vicinity, The four-
teen others had run away, on the approach of the wild
beasts, and instinct now brought them back to the camp.

No need to tell how the good creatures were welcomed
home. With them, the wagon could now resume its journey
on through the defile of the Ural. Every one would put his
shoulder to the wheel in the more difficult passes, and Mr.
Cascabel would be able to make his triumphal entry into
Perm.

What troubled him, however, was that the Fair Rambler
had lost something of its splendor of former days, with its
sides belabored with the teeth of the wolves, its panels
scratched and clawed. Even before this recent siege, the
billows and the squalls had played havoc with the harmony
of its coats of paint and the relief of its gilt borders. The
snow-drifts had half slashed away the escutcheon of the
Cascabels. What time and skill it would now take the artist
to restore its ancient luster! For, in truth, the combined

efforts of Cornelia and Clovy were now powerless,

By ten o’clock the reindeer were harnessed, and a start
was made, the men going on foot, as the ground was rising

sensibly.

The weather was fine and the heat bearable in this upper
region of the chain. But how often they had to help the
willing team, and clear out the wheels of the wagon from

_ the ruts into which they would sink axle-deep. At every
x sharp angle of the pass it became necessary to lay all hands

on the Fair Rambler, lest it should knock, fore or aft,
_ against the edges of the rocks.

These defiles in the Urals are not the work of man.
Nature alone has wrought a passage for the outpourings of
_ the chains through these meanderous clifts. A small river,
an affluent of the Sosva, came down, right here, toward the
_ west, Sometimes its bed became so wide as to leave the

a

322 CAESAR .CASCABEL.

wayfarer barely a narrow zigzag path. Here, its banks,
standing almost perpendicular, were covered with the merest
layer of moss and rocky plants. ‘There, their gentle slope
bristled with trees, with firs and pines, birches and larch-
trees and other indigenous growths of Northern Europe.
And far away, lost in the clouds, were the profiles of the
snow-capped crests that fed the torrents of this orographic
system.

‘During this first day’s march, the little troupe met not a
soul along this evidently unfrequented pass. Ortik and
Kirschef seemed pretty well acquainted with it. Two or
three times, however, they appeared to hesitate, in places
where several tracks presented themselves. They would
then stop, and converse together in a low tone,—which
could surprise nobody, since there was no motive for sus-
pecting their good faith.

Still Kayette never ceased to watch them, unknown to
them. ‘Those secret conversations, the glances they ex-
changed, excited her distrust more and more. They, on
their part, were far from dreaming that the young woman
felt the least misgiving toward them.

At the fall of day, Mr. Sergius selected a halting place by
the bank of the little river, and when supper was over, Mr.
Cascabel, Kirschef, and Clovy undertook the task of mount-
ing guard as a measure of precaution, one after the other.
It must be confessed, they deserved no little credit, either,
for not falling asleep at their post, after the fatigues of the
day and their want of sleep during the preceding night.

Next day, another stage up the defile, which was becom-
ing narrower as it ascended higher,—a stage as laborious as
the previous one, and at the end of which an advance of five
or six miles had been made in twenty-four hours. This,
however, had been foreseen, and reckoned among the delays
of the journey.

More than once Mr, Sergius and his friend John were

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THE URAL MOUNTAINS. 323

greatly tempted to pursue some fine head of game through

the wooded gorges, right and left of their track. In the
occasional clearings, whole flocks of elks, deer, and hares
were seen to scamper. And Cornelia would gladly have
accepted a little fresh venison. But, if game was plentiful,
the ammunition, it will be remembered, had been quite
exhausted during the engagement with the wolves, and it
could not now be renewed before the next village had been
reached. And so the guns hung useless on the rack, and
Wagram would often stare at his master and _ positively
looked as if he uttered the words :

“Say, boss, you’ve given up shooting altogether, have
youre,

Still one circumstance there was, in which the interven-
tion of firearms would have been fully justified.

It was three o'clock in the afternoon; the Hair Rambler
was coming along a rocky bank, when a bear, whose presence
had been announced by the barking of the dogs, appeared
on the other side of the stream.

It was an enormous brute; and there he sat on his hind
quarters, swinging his huge head to and fro, and shaking
his thick brown fur, as the little caravan was advancing
toward him,

Did he think of pouncing upon them? Was it a look of
curiosity or one of envy he cast on the team and their
drivers ?

John had silenced Wagram, wisely deeming it useless to
excite this formidable animal, as they were unarmed, Why
run the risk of changing his may-be friendly or careless
humor into hostile disposition, when it was quite possible
for him to simply cross from one bank of the little river to
the other?

And that is why it came to pass that both parties stood
looking at each other quietly, like two travelers crossing

‘each other on the highway, while Mr. Cascabel muttered ;

324 CESAR CASCABEL.

‘What a pity we can't capture this magnificent Bruin !—
A genuiue Bruin from the Ural mountains, ladies and gentle-
men /—What a sensation he would make!”

It would have been hard, however, to induce him to
join the troupe; he evidently preferred the wilds of his
forest home to the glories of the showman’s career, for he
presently raised himself lazily on all fours, gave a last swing
to his big head, and half-trotted himself out of sight.

A return of civilities being always de rigueur, the bear’s
parting nod was acknowledged by the polite raising of
Sander’s hat. John would much rather have raised his
gun for him to the level of his shoulder; but what could
he do? ’

At six in the evening, another halt in very analogous con-
ditions to those of the previous evening. Next morning
another start at five o’clock and another day’s painful
progress. Always plenty of toiling, but thus far no acci-
dent.

And now the worst of the journey was over, since the
Fair Rambler had now reached the culminating point of
the pass, the very apex of the defile. There was nothing
left now but to go down the western slopes of the mountain
toward Europe.

That evening, the 6th of July, the worn-out team stopped
at the entrance into a sinuous gorge, flanked on the right
by a thick wood.

The heat had been stifling all the day. To the east,

heavy clouds stood out in bold relief against the pale -

vapors of the horizon, thanks to the long well-marked
streak that formed their basis.

“There is a storm coming on,” said John.

“Worse luck!” replied Ortik. “In the Urals, storms
are terrible sometimes !”

“ Well, we shall get under shelter,” rejoined Mr. Cas-
cabel, ‘“I’d rather have the storms than the wolves !”

No DESIRE FOR A SHOWMAN’S CAREER.—Page 324.

THE URAL MOUNTAINS. 325

“ Kayette,” said Napoleona to the young Indian girl,
* are you afraid of thunder?”

“ Not at all, my pet,” replied Kayette.

“You are quite right too, little Kayette,” remarked John.
“You must not be afraid!”

“ That’s all very fine!” answered his sister. “ But when

~ you can’t help yourself!”

“Oh, the little coward!” cried Sander. “Why, you
silly girl, thunder is only a game of skittles with very big
bowls.”

“Yes, bowls of fire that come down on your head, some-
times !"’ retorted the little girl, just as a sudden flash of
lightning made her close her eyelids.

They hastened to organize the encampment so that every
one might get under cover before the storm came on.
Then, after supper, it was arranged that the men would
keep watch as during the preceding nights.

Mr. Sergius was going to offer his services when Ortik
anticipated him, saying :

“Would you like Kirschef and me to take the first watch
to-night?”

“As you like,” answered Mr. Sergius. “ At midnight,
John and I will come and relieve you.”

_“ That’s settled, Mr. Sergius!” said Ortik.

Natural as this proposal was, it drew Kayette’s attention,
and vaguely, almost without a thought, she felt a presenti-
ment of something wrong being in contemplation.

Just now, the storm burst out with great violence.
Flashes of lightning cast their fitful rays through the sum-
mits of the trees and the roll of the thunder traversing the
space was over and over re-echoed through the mountains,

Napoleona, the better to shut her eyes and her ears, had
covered herself up in her little bed. Shesoon had imitators,
though not through the same cause, and by nine o'clock, all

326 CAESAR CASCABEL.

inside the Fucr Ramdler were fast asleep despite the roar of
thunder and the hissing of the gale. -

Kayette alone was not sleeping. She had not undressed,
and though almost exhausted with fatigue, she could not
rest fora moment. She shuddered with anguish when she
thought that the safety of all those dear ones was intrusted
to the keeping of the two Russian sailors. And so, after a
long hour had passed, she should ascertain what they were
doing : she raised the curtain of the little window above her
couch, and peeped out.

Ortik and Kirschef had just interrupted the conversation
they were having together, and were moving toward the
opening of the gorge, where a man had suddenly appeared.

Ortik immediately beckoned to the latter not to come
nearer for fear of the dogs ; indeed, under ordinary circum-
stances, Wagram and Marengo would already have an-
nounced his approach, but, owing to the stifling tempera-
ture, they had sought a shelter under the Hazr Rambler.

Ortik and Kirschef went over to the man, a few words
were exchanged, and by the light of a flash, Kayette saw
that the sailors followed him under the trees.

Who was he, why had the sailors communicated with him,
were things that should be found out at once.

Slowly, softly, Kayette slipped out without disturbing a
single one of her companions. As she passed by John, she
heard him pronouncing her name—

Had he seen her ?

No! John was dreaming, dreaming of her!

Noiselessly she opened the door and slid it back again,
and when she found herself outside :

“ Now!” she whispered to herself.

No fear, no hesitation even, was there in the young
woman’s breast. Still, it was her life she risked if ever she
was discovered.

Kayette plunged into the forest, the underwood of which

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THE URAL MOUNTAINS,

2745
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flared up as if with the glare of a huge conflagration when-

~ ever a flash of lightning rent the clouds above. Creeping

along the thicket, in the middle of tall grass, she reached
the trunk of an enormous larch tree. A whisper she heard
some twenty paces beyond, caused her to stop where she
was.

Seven men were there ; Ortik and Kirschef had joined
them ; they were all under a tree, and this is what Kayette
overheard of the conversation, carried on in Russian.

“ Devilish lucky,” said Ortik, “that I took the Petchora
pass! A fellow is always sure to meet old chums this way!
Am I right, Rostof ?”

Rostof was the man that Ortik and Kirschef had perceived
by the edge of the wood.

“We have been following that wagon these two days,”
said he ; “on the quiet, of course. As we had recognized

your two faces in there, we thought there might be a good

job on, perhaps.”

“A good job, or may-be two,” answered Ortik.

“ But where do you come from ?” inquired Rostof.

“Right away from America, where we had joined the
Karnof fellows.”’

« And these people you are with, what are they?”

“French show people, of the name of Cascabel, coming
home to Europe. We have a long tale of traveling adven-
tures to tell you some other time. Let me come to the
chief thing—”

“ Ortik,” interrupted one of the men, “is there any coim
in that wagon ?”’

“A remnant of two or three thousand roubles.”

“ And you have not taken French leave of those French
people yet ?”’ asked Rostof with a sneer.
“No, there is a bigger haul to make than a paltry theft
like that ; and we wanted more hands.”

* What is it?”

328 CESAR CASCABEL.

“Well, listen here. If Kirschef and I have managed to
come all the way through Siberia, without any risk and
cross the frontier, it’s thanks to these Cascabels. But what
we have done, there is another man that has done it, too, in
the hope that no one would go ferret him out among a lot
of acrobats. He is a Russian, who has no more right than
we have to set his foot in Russia, although the charges
against him aren’t the same color as ours. He is a politi-
cal convict,a man of what they call noble birth, and as
much fortune as you like. Now, his secret is known to
nobody but the said Cascabel and his wife—”

“How did you come to know it?”’

“By a conversation we overheard the other day at Mouji
between the showman and his Russian friend.”

“ And his name is—?”

“For the world at large, his name is Sergius ; but in
reality it is Count Narkine;and it’s as much as his life is
worth, if ever he is caught on Russian ground.”

“ Wait till I think,’’said Rostof. “Count Narkine—
Isn’t that the son of Prince Narkine, the same that was trans-
ported to Siberia, and they made such fuss about him when
he escaped out of it, a few years ago ?”’

“That’s the man!” answered Ortik. ‘“ Well, Count
_Narkine has millions of roubles, and I reckon he won’t fight
shy of giving us one,—if we threaten to give him up to the
police!”

“That’s a mighty good idea, Ortik! But what’s the use
of us in that concern?”

‘Because it must not look as if Kirschef and me had
anything to do with this first job, so that if it turned out no
good, we might fail back on the other. For this card to
turn up trump, we two must remain for the present as we
are, the two shipwrecked Russian mariners, saved and
brought home by the Cascabels. By and by, when we have
got rid of them, we can roam over the whole country, anq

THE URAL MOUNTAINS. 329

the police will never dream of suspecting us when we've
got our tights on.”

“Say, Ortik, shall we attack you to-night, and pounce on
Count Narkine, and let him know our price for keeping
mum?”

“Not yet, not yet!” said the sailor. “As the count
means to push on as far as Perm to see his old fatlier, bet-
ter let him go all the way. When he is there, one fine
morning, he’ll get a note requesting him to come to a cer-
tain rendezvous—for a very urgent affair—and then you
can have the pleasure of making his acquaintance.”

*¢ Just now, there is nothing to be done, then?”

“ Nothing at all, but try and get on ahead of us, and be
in Perm a little before our caravan.”

“ Right you are!” answered Rostof.

And the wretches parted, without the least suspicion of
having been watched.

Ortik and Kirschef returned to the encampment a few
moments after Kayette, and concluded from the general
stillness that their absence had passed off unnoticed.

And now Kayette was in possession of the plan of these
monsters. She had learnt, moreover, that Mr. Sergius was
Count Narkine, and that his very life was threatened, as
well as that of her French friends. The secret that had
hitherto sheltered him was going to be betrayed, if he did
not consent to part with a portion of his fortune!

Terrified at her discovery, she felt for a few moments
crushed under its blow, but her resolute determination to
foil Ortik’s designs soon overcame all other feelings, and
she strove to think out the means of doing so, Whata
night she spent! What anxious hours she lay there think-
ing, and thinking.

Might not all this have been a horrible dream ?

No, it was indeed a reality. .

And poor Kayette could entertain no doubt about tt,

,

335° CHESAR CASCABEL.

when, next morning, she heard Ortik say to her good Mr.
Cascabel :

“ You know we intended, Kirschef and myself, to leave
you when we got over the mountain, and make our way to
Riga. Well, we have been thinking we had better go with
you to Perm and ask the governor, there, to send us home.
Would it be the same to you to let us go on with you?”’

“Why, of course, my friends!”’ answered Cascabel.
“When people have come such a distance together, they
should keep together to the last. Parting always comes
too soon.”

CHAPTER “xii,
A JOURNEY’S END WHICH IS NOT THE END.

UCH was, then, the abominable plot now in course of
execution against Count Narkine and the Cascabel
family! And that, at the very moment when, after so much
toil and so many dangers, the journey was drawing so near
to a successful termination! ‘Two or three days more, the
chain of the Ural would be left behind, and 300 miles to
the southwest would bring them to Perm.

It will be remembered that Czesar Cascabel had made up
his mind to sojourn for some time in that town, so that Mr.
Sergius might have every facility to repair to Walska every
night, and without exposing himself. After which, accord-
ing to circumstances, the count would remain in his ances-
tral home, or would come with him to Nijni,—perhaps to
France even !

Quite so! But in the event of Mr. Sergius not leaving
Perm, they should have to: part with Kayette, who would, of
course, remain with him !

That is what John went on repeating to himself, what
unmanned him, what broke his heart. And John’s grief, so

Me

A JOURNEY’S END WHICH IS NOT THE END. 331
true, so deep, was shared by his father and his mother, his
brother and his little sister. None of them could resign
themselves to the thought of seeing Kayette no more !

That morning, John, more sad at heart than ever, came
to the young Ha and observed her pale, drawn features,
her eyes red for want of sleep :

“ Little Kayette,” said he, “ what is wrong?”

“ Nothing wrong with me, John!”

“Ves, thereis! Youareill! You did not sleep. Why,
you really look as if you had cried!”

“Tt is last night’s storm! I could not close my eyes all
the night.”’

“That long journey has told greatly on you, has it not?”

“Not in the least, John. I am strong. Have I not been
used to all sorts of hardships? I shall soon get over that.”

“Then, what is wrong with you, Kayette? Do tell me, J
beseech you!”

“Indeed, I am all right, John.”

And John insisted no further.

Seeing the poor fellow so unhappy, Kayette had been
well-nigh telling him everything. It pained her to have a
secret from him! But knowing his strength of feeling, she
said to herself he might not contain himself perhaps in the
presence of Kirschef and Ortik. His indignation might
get the better of him—the least act of imprudence might
cost Count Narkine his life; and Kayette had kept silent.

After long consideration, she determined to communicate
all she had heard to Mr. Cascabel. But she should have
an opportunity of being alone with him, and during the
crossing of the Ural this would be a difficult matter, for it
was important that the two sailors should suspect nothing.

As to that, there was plenty of time yet, since the mis-
creants were to make no move till the troupe reached Perm,

So long as Mr. Cascabel and his people would continue

- to be the same as they now were toward the sailors, the

337 CAESAR CASCABEL.

suspicions of the latter would not be aroused ; and it may
be mentioned, in this connection, that, on hearing that
Ortik and Kirschef intended remaining with the troupe as
far as Perm, Mr. Sergius had readily expressed his satisfac-
tion thereat.

At six in the morning on the 7th of July, the Pazr Ram-
dler resumed its journey. One hour later, they were at the
first springs of the River Petchora, after which the pass is
named. Beyond the mountain range, this river becomes
one of the most important in northern Russia, and after a
course of 1350 kilometers throws itself into the Arctic
Sea.

At this elevation in the pass, the Petchora was yet but a
torrent, rushing through a ravined and sinuous bed, at the
foot of tall groves of firs and pine trees. Its left bank
would prove a safe track right on to the mouth of the pass,
and, with some caution in the steeper parts, the descent
would be accomplished rapidly.

Throughout this day Kayette could not find an opportune
moment for her private talk with Mr. Cascabel. Nor did
she fail to observe that there were now no private whisperings
between the two Russians, either; no more lurking away
on their part at halting time,—what could have been their
motive for such maneuvering now? Their accomplices
had gone ahead, for a certainty, and not before reaching
Perm did the sailors expect to meet them again.

The following day yielded a good day’s work. The de-
file, now wider, afforded a better road for the wagon. ‘They
could hear the Petchora, deeply incased between its banks,
rumbling over its rocky bed. As the pass assumed a less
wild aspect, it also became more frequented. ‘Traders were
now met, with a bundle on their shoulders and an iron-
tipped stick in their hand, tramping their way from Europe
to Asia. Bands of miners, on their journey to or from the
mines, exchanged a word or two with out party, On com-

“THEN MR. SERGIUS IS DONE FOR, AND SO
PERHAPS. "—Page 336.

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A JOURNEY’S END. WHICH IS NOT THE END, 333
ing out of the gorges, a few farms or small villages would
now greet the sight. Away to the south, the Denejkin and
the Kontchakov overtopped this part of the Urals.

After a night’s rest, the little caravan reached the ex-
tremity of the Petchora pass, about twelve o’clock. It had
at last crossed the entire width of the chain and had set foot
on European soil.

Another stage of 350 versts, and Perm would reckon
“one more house and one more family within its walls,” as
Mr. Cascabel used to put it.

“Well, my word!” he would add. “A nice old ramble
we have had, my friends! ... Say, wasI not right! ...
There are more ways to get home than one! Instead of
coming into Russia by one side, we came by the other!
Well, what’s the difference, so long as France is over
Ebene?”

And, had he been urged on, ever so little, the good man
would have stated his belief that he already recognized the
air of Normandy, wafted eastward across the whole of Eu-
rope, and that he could swear to it by the little sniff of sea
breeze that was in it.

Just outside the defile was a zavody, consisting of some
fifty houses and a few hundred inhabitants.

It was decided that they would halt here till the follow-
ing day to renew certain provisions, and among others, the
stock of flour, tea, and sugar.

At the same time Mr. Sergius and John were able to get
powder and shot and replenish their exhausted ammunition
stores.

They had no sooner returned than Mr. Sergius called

Out, :

«“ And. now, come along, friend John! Shoulder your

gun, and we shall not return with an empty bag.”

“As you like, sir,” replied John, more through courtesy

_ than for his own pleasure,

334 CESAR CASCABEL.

Poor fellow! ‘The thought of the now imminent parting
made him careless of everything. |

“ Will you come with us, Ortik ?’s asked Mr. Sergius.

“ With pleasure, sir.” ;

“Try to bring me home some choice game,” recom-
mended Mrs. Cascabel, “‘and I promise you a good supper.”

As it was only two in the afternoon, the sportsmen had
ample time to search the woods in the neighborhood, even
if the thickets had not swarmed with game as they did.
_ Mr. Sergius, John, and Ortik started off accordingly,
while Kirschef and Clovy looked after the reindeer, and pre-
pared a park for them under the trees in the corner of a
meadow, where they could graze and ruminate at ease.

Meanwhile, Cornelia was returning to the Fazr Rambler,
where there was plenty of work to be done :

“ Now then, Napoleona !”’

“ Here I am, mother ! ”’

“And Kayette ?”

“Going at once, madame !”

But this was the very opportunity Kayette had watched
for, so anxiously, to be alone with the head of the family.

“ Mr. Cascabel,’”’ she said, going over to him.

SAV eLL, may, pet’?

“1 should like to speak to you.”

“ito"speak:to meé?)"!

Mes, privately.”

PPrivately ? 7

Then, mentally, he asked himself :

“What can my little Kayette want to see me for ?—
Might it be about my poor John?”

And both walked a short distance away, to the left of the
zavody.

“Well, my dear child,’ asked Cascabel, after a while,
“what is your wish? What is this private talk about?”

“Mr. Cascabel, these three days I have been longing to

fs .
a

+".

aa oe ee ee

A JOURNEY’S END WHICH IS NOT THE END.

335
speak to you, without anybody hearing us or even seeing
us.”

“Why, it must be a,very serious matter, my darling.”

“Mr. Cascabel, I know that Mr. Sergius is Count Nar-
kine ?”’

“Eh ?—Count Narkine?” stammered Cascabel. “ You
know ?—And how did you come to know that ?”

“Through those who were listening to you while you
spoke with Mr. Sergius, the other evening at Mouji.”

Gan.that be?”’

“And, in my turn, { overheard them conversing about
Count Narkine and about you, unknown to them.”

raWhe are they ?”’

“ Ortik and Kirschef.”

“ What !—They know ?”

“ Yes, sir, and they know, besides, that Mr. Sergius is a
political convict who is returning to Russia to see his
father, Prince Narkine.”

Czsar Cascabel, stupefied at what he had heard, stood
fora moment, dazed, his arms hanging helplessly, his mouth
gaping. Then, collecting his ideas;

“T am sorry,” he said, “that Ortik and Kirschef should
know the secret ; but since, by an unfortunate accident,
they have come to hear of it, I am sure they won’t betray it !”

“Tt is not by accident, and they wz// betray it.”

“What, honest sailors as they are !”’

“ Mr. Cascabel, listen : Count Narkine runs the greatest
danger.”’

oleeiees

“ Ortik and Kirschef are two criminals who belonged to
Karnof's band. They are the men who attacked Count
Narkine on the Alaskan frontier. After embarking at Port
Clarence to get across to Siberia, they were cast on the
Liakhov Islands, where we found them. As they know

that the Count’s life is in danger if he is recognized on

336 CESAR CASCABEL.

Russian territory, they will demand a large portion of his
fortune from him, and if he refuses, they will denounce him
to the police,—And then, Mr. Sergius is done for, and so
are you, perhaps !”

While Cascabel, crushed by this revelation, listened in
silence, Kayette explained to him how the two sailors had
always excited her suspicions. It was but too true that she
had heard Kirschef’s voice before. Now, she fully remem-
bered it! It was on that frightful night when the two
ruffians had attacked Count Narkine. And now, a few
nights ago, while they were on guard together, she had seen
them going away from the encampment with a man who
had come for them; she had followed them, and she had
been the unsuspected witness, of a conversation between
them and seven or eight of their old accomplices—
All Ortik’s plans were now unveiled. After bringing the
Fair Rambler round by the Petchora pass, where he was
sure to meet numbers of malefactors, he had at first thought
of murdering Mr. Sergiusand the whole of the little caravan ;
but, hearing that Mr. Sergius was Count Narkine, he had
said to himself that it was better to extort an enormous sum
of money from him under threat of being handed over to
the Russian authorities. .... They would wait till all had
reached Perm. Neither of the two sailors would appear in
this business, in order to keep their position with the troupe,
in the event ofa failure. It was their associates who would
communicate with Mr. Sergius by a letter, asking him for
an interview, etc., etc.

It was with the utmost difficulty Cascabel could control
his rage while Kayette told her tale of horrors. Such mon-

sters! To whom he had rendered so many services, whom

he had delivered from prison, whom he had fed and brought
back to their country !—Well, a nice present, a precious
restitution he was making tothe empire of the Czar! The
fiends! The—

ee. ee

| A JOURNEY’S END WHICH IS NOT THE END. 337
A *

“ And now, Mr. Cascabel,” asked Kayette, “ what are you
going to do?”’

“What am I going to do, pet? Why, it's very simple ; I
-am going to denounce Ortik and Kirschef to the very first
post of Cossacks we meet, and they'll swing for it !”
“Think, sir,” replied the young girl, “ you can't do that.”
sawhy not?”

“‘ Because the first thing the two men will do will be to
betray Count Narkine, and, along with him, those who have
been the means of his returning to Russia.”

“Devil may care for what concerns me!” exclaimed
Cascabel. “If I was the only one in question—But Mr.
Sergius is gape thing! You are right, Kayette ; I must
think it Over.’

So saying, he moved on a few paces, a prey to the wild-
est agitation, striking his head with his fist as though in the
hope of knocking an idea out of it. Then, retracing his
steps toward the young girl :

** You tell me distinctly,” he asked, “ that it is Ortik’s in-
tention to wait till we reach Perm before setting his accom-
plices to work?”

“Yes, Mr. Cascabel ; and he recommended them, above
all, to make no move whatever until then. So, I should
think we must have patience and continue the journey to
the end.”

“ That’s hard!” interrupted Cascabei, ‘very hard !—
_ Keep them with us, bring them along with us to Perm,
shaking hands with them at night, showing them a friendly
x face—By the blood of my fathers, I don’t know what keeps
me from going at them this minute, and wringing their
necks like so—just like—so—”

And ina paroxysm of rage, Caesar Cascabel worked the
- muscles of his sinewy hands as if he had been in reality
4 making Ortik and Kirschef pay the penalty of their many
crimes.

338 CESAR CASCABEL.

‘

“You know you must control yourself, Mr. Cascabel,”
said Kayette. ‘‘ You are supposed to know nothing—”

“ You are quite right, my child.”

“T’ll only ask you if you would think well of warning
Mr. Sergius?”

“No—the more I think of it—no! It seems to me
wiser not to tell him. What could he do ?—Nothing—
I am there to watch over him—and I will! Besides I
know him well! Rather than expose us to any danger,
he might give a good tug to the left while we’d be pull-
ing to the right. No—fora certainty,no! Ill say noth-
ing to him.”

« And will you say nothing to John?”

“To John, little Kayette? Notaword! He isa pas-
sionate youth! He could not keep quiet in the face of
those abominable creatures! He can’t control himself like
his father! I know he would burst out! No, nota word
to John any more than to Mr. Sergius!”

“ And Madame Cascabel, won’t you tell her ?

“Ah, Madame Cascabel—that’s another question. She
is a superior woman, you know, able to give an advice—and
a helping hand, too! I never had a secret from her, and
beside she knows all about Count Narkine—yes, I will
tell her! That woman, you could give her State secrets to
keep—rather than betray them she’d let her tongue be
cut out ; what more could you expect from a woman ?—
Yes, I will tell her!”’

“Now, ought we not go back to the Hazr Rambler?”
suggested the young girl; “for our absence must not be
remarked.”’

“You are right, little Kayette, always right.”

“ Above all, control yourself, won’t you, Mr. Saad
when you see those two men before you?”

“Tt will be hard, my child, but never fear, I’ll have a
smile for them—the wretches! To think that we soiled

{

4 JOURNE Y’S END WHICH IS NOT THE END. 339

ourselves with their contact. And that’s the reason,—

“is it?-why they told me they would not go directly to

Riga! They would honor us with their company right on

to Perm! The scoundrels! Theruffians! The devils!”

And Mr. Cascabel exhausted on them all the most for-

midable epithets in his vocabulary.

ee If that is the way you are going to contain your-
self—”

*“No, little Kayette, never fear! I am relieved now!

You see it was choking me, strangling me! I'll be cool

now. I am so, already! Let us go back to the Fair

Rambler. What fiends !”

And both returned toward the zavody. Neither of them

spoke now. They were absorbed in their thoughts. So

marvelous a trip, but yesterday on the eve of completion,

and now on the brink of so fatal an issue through this

- odious plot !

As they neared home, Mr. Cascabel stopped :

“Little Kayette ?” he said.

foWell, sir?”

On the whole, I have made up my mind not to say any-
thing to Cornelia !”’

eoWhy so?”

“Because, you see—generally speaking I have noticed

that a woman keeps a secret all the better as she knows

- nothing about it. That’s why this secret in particular

shall remain with both of us!”

One moment later Kayette had returned to her house-

hold duties; and as he passed by him, Mr. Cascabel had

’ made a friendly gesture to that “ honest Kirschef,” while

_ he muttered between his teeth :

“ Hasn’t he the face of a devil!”

And two hours after, when the sportsmen came home,

— Ortik was warmly congratulated by the boss on the mag-

__nificent deer he brought on his shoulders. On their part,

340 , CAESAR CASCABEL:

Mr. Sergius and John had shot two hares and a few brace
of partridges, so that Cornelia was able to offer her famished
guests a sumptuous supper, of which Mr. Cascabel took a
large share. ‘Truly, our actor was “splendid”! Not a
trace of his anxious thoughts could be detected on his
countenance. No one could have supposed that the man
was aware there were two murderers at his table, whose
ultimate designs were nothing short of the slaughter of him-
self and family. He was literally in a charming mood, full
of fun and communicative mirth, and when Clovy had
fetched out one of the “ good bottles,” he drank to their re-
‘turn to Europe, their return to Russia, their return to France !

The next day, July the roth, the team struck directly for
Perm. The defile being now cleared, the journey was
likely to be accomplished without difficulty, nay, without
any incident. The Hair Rambler was following the right
bank of the Vichera, which skirts the foot of the Ural.
Small towns, villages, and farms now dotted the road ; hos-
pitable country people, abundant game, and a warm greet-
ing everywhere. The weather, though very hot, was cooled
by a little northeast breeze. The reindeer journeyed
bravely on, and shook their pretty heads as they went
along. Mr. Sergius had gratified them with the help of
two horses, which he had bought at the last zavody, and
they could now cover up to thirty miles a day.

Truly, this was a glorious début for the little troupe on
the soil of old Europe! And their manager would have
been a happy man indeed, if he had not cause to continually
repeat to himself that he had two scroundrels among them :

* And to say that their band has been tracking us like a
pack of jackals scenting a caravan! Come, Caesar Casca-
bel, you must think of some trick to play those gallows-
birds!” “A

How unlucky that a grand scheme, so skilfully combined,
should be disturbed by this fiendish complication. The

RosroF WAS PENNING A NOTE.—/age 343.

A JOURNEY’S END WHICH IS NOT THE END. 341%

papers of the Cascabels fulfilled all the necessary formali-
ties ; the Russian authorities let Mr. Sergius pass freely as
a member of the troupe; and when they arrived at Perm,
he could have gone to and fro on his daily visits to Walska,
with all possible ease. After seeing his father and staying
for some time with him, he could have traversed Russia
under his disguise as an “artist” and made his way to
France, where he would be in complete safety. And then,
no more parting !—Kayette and he would both be of the
family !—And later on, who knows if that poor John—
really, really, the gallows was not enough for those demons.
And Mr. Cascabel, in spite of himself, would burst out
into sudden and apparently groundless fits of passion,

And when Cornelia would inquire :

““Czesar, what can be the matter with you ?”

“With me? Nothing!” he would answer.

“Then why do you rage so ?”’

“‘T rage, Cornelia, because if I did not rage I should go
mad !” ,

And the good woman was at a loss to find the clue of the
enigmatic reply.

Four days passed by in these conditions. ‘Then, some
sixty leagues southwest of the Urals, the Far Ramdler
reached the little town of Solikamsk. '

No doubt Ortik’s associates could not be far ahead now ;
but, as a measure of prudence, neither Kirschef nor he
made any effort to ascertain the point.

As a matter of fact, Rostof and his ccmpanions were
there, and would start, that same night, for Perm, just a
hundred and fifty miles away to the west. Nothing could
now hinder their abominable project.

Next morning, at daybreak, under date of the 17th of
July, the Koswa was crossed in a ferry. Three or four days
more, and the famous series of performances “ by the
artists of the Cascabel family, on their way to the Nijm

342 CAESAR CASCABEL.

fair,’ would be commenced at Perm. Such, at least, was
the program of the tour.

As to Mr. Sergius, he would at once make the necessary
plans for his nightly calls at Walska.

Let his feeling of impatience be imagined, if possible, as
well as the anxiety he betrayed when conversing about all
this with his friend Cascabel. Ever since he had made his
escape, and during the thirteen months of this extraordi-
nary trip from the Alaskan frontier to Europe, he had been
without a word from Prince Narkine. Considering the age
his father was, even then—was he quite sure he would find
him at the chateau still ?

‘Nonsense, nonsense, Mr. Sergius!’’ Czesar Cascabel
would say. “ The prince is in as good health as you or I,
and even better! You know I was born for a fortune-
teller, and I read the future as easily as the past. Well, I
tell you Prince Narkine is now waiting for you, hale and
strong, and you shall see him in a few days!”

And Cascabel would have had no hesitation to swear to
his prophecy were it not for that cursed Ortik.

“JT am not bad-hearted, not I,” he would mutter to him-
self ; “but, if I could gnaw his neck off with my teeth, I
would—yes, I would, and think he got off cheap!”

Kayette, meanwhile, grew more and more alarmed as
they approached nearer to Perm. What decision would
Mr. Cascabel take ? How would he defeat Ortik’s plans
without compromising Mr. Sergius’s safety? It seemed to
her almost impossible. And so she found it very hard to con-
ceal her anxiety, and John, ignorant of the cause, suffered
cruel tortures, seeing her so uneasy, so downcast at times.

In the forenoon of the 2oth of July, the Kama was crossed,
and, about five in the evening Mr. Sergius and his com-
panions were already engaged in making their preparations,
on the chief square of Perm, for a stay of several days.

One hour had not elapsed before Ortik had communicated

AN ENDLESS DAY. 343

with his accomplices, and Rostof was penning a note, which
was to reach Mr. Sergius the same day, and in which a
rendezvous was given him in one of the tavernsof the tow n,
for very urgent business. Should he fail to come, they
would see about securing his person, should they even
- capture him at night on the road to Walska.

At nightfall, when this note was brought by Rostof, Mr.
Sergius had already set out for his father’s chateau, Mr.
Cascabel, who was by himself just then, gave every token of
_ great surprise on being handed this message. He took it,
however, undertaking to deliver it safely, and meanwhile
said nothing about it to anybody.

Mr. Sergius’s absence annoyed Ortik. He would rather
the attempt at blackmail had been made before the inter-
view between the prince and the count. He concealed his
vexed feelings, however, and remarked, as he sat to supper,
ih the most unconcerned fashion :

“Mr. Sergius is not with us this evening ? ”

“No,” answered Mr. Cascabel. ‘‘Heis gone out. Those
formalities with the authorities in this country are such a
lague !”’

“When will he be back ?”

“Some time in the evening, I guess.”

CHAPTER XIII.
AN ENDLESS DAY.

HE government of Perm looks as if astride on the back
of the Ural, one foot in Asia, the other in Europe, Its
boundaries are: the government of Vologdia to the north-
west, that of Tobolsk to the east, Viatka to the west, and
Orenburg to the south. And accordingly, thanks to this
dual situation, its population is a strange mixture of Asiatic
and of European types.

344 C4ESAR CASCABEL.

Perm, its capital, is a town of 6000 inhabitants, situated
on the Kama, and an important center for the metal trade.
Previous to the eighteenth century, it was merely a village.
But, having been enriched by the discovery of a copper
mine in 1723, the village was declared a town in 1781.

Is the latter denomination justified even now? Scarcely,
in truth! Monuments, there are none ; the streets are for
the most part narrow and dirty, the houses destitute of
comfort, and the hotels such that no traveler has ever yet
taken it into his head to say a word in their favor.

Of course, the Cascabels were but little concerned with
the town architect's business. Did they not prefer their
own “home on wheels” to any other? Would they have
exchanged it for the New York “St. Nicholas” or the
‘Grand Hotel” in Paris?

“Just think, will you?” repeated its proud owner.
“The Fair Rambler has come from Sacramento to Perm !—
Only that little trip, that’s all!—Just show me one of your
hotels in Paris, London, Vienna, or New York that has ever
done as much !”

What answers could be given to arguments of this kind ?

On that day, then, Perm had been increased by one house,
standing in the very middle of its principal “ square,” with
the authorization of the civil governor of the place. Nor
had the slightest contraction of the official’s brow accom-
panied his perusal of the artists’ papers.

Immediately on the arrival of the Mair Rambler, public
curiosity had been on tiptoe : French showmen, just arrived
from the depths of America, with a wagon drawn by ateam
of reindeer !—The profit to be derived from such a bait
none knew so well as the eminent manager of the troupe.

As luck would have it, the fair was at its full, and would
last a few days longer ; some good takings in perspective,
therefore! At the same time, not a day was to be lost,
for, Perm first, and Nijni after, should yield the wherewith

AN ENDLESS DAY. 345

to accomplish the remainder of the journey to France.
Beyond that—well, they would trust to Providence, and
thus far the Cascabels had not a little to be thankful for.

The consequence of all this was that all hands were at
work at early morn. John, Sander, Clovy, and the two
Russian sailors vied with each other in their eagerness to
prepare all that was necessary for the performance. As to
Mr. Sergius, he had not returned as he had promised,—a
source of considerable vexation to Ortik, and of some un-
easiness to Mr. Cascabel.

Meanwhile, at the earliest moment, a huge bill had been
posted up, written in Russian, of course, and in large char-
acters, under the dictation of their absent friend, before his
departure.

It read as follows :

THE CASCABEL FAMILY.

FRENCH TROUPE RETURNING FROM AMERICA.
GYMNASTICS, JUGGLING, EQUILIBRISM, DISPLAYS OF MUSCLE
AND SKILL, DANCES, GRACEFUL ARTS.

Mr. CascabEL, first Hercules in any and every style.

Mme. Cascaset, first wrestler in any and every style, champion of the
Chicago International Matches.

Mr. Joun, first equilibrist in any and every style.

Mr. Sanver, clown in any and every style.

Mille. Napoeona, dancer in any and every style.

Mr. Crovy, pantaloon in any and every style.

Jaxo, parrot in any and every style.

Joun Butt, ape in any and every style.

WaGRAM and MareENGoO, dogs in any and every style.

GREAT ATTRACTION !
THE BRIGANDS OF THE BLACK FOREST.

A pantomime or dumb show, with a grand wedding and wonderful denoue-
ment. Immense success through three thousand one hundred
and seventy-seven performances in France and
Soretgn parts.

N. B.—Needless to say that this being a speechless play and the spoken language
being replaced by gestures of all kinds, this masterpiece of the dramatic art can be un-
derstood by all, even by those persons afflicted with that much-to-be-regretted ail-
ment, deafness. *

For the convenience of the public, admission will be free. The seats
will be paid for only when they have been occupied.

PniCe: 49 KOPECKS, without any distinction.

346 CAESAR CASCABEL.

Generally, Mr. Cascabel gave his unique performances in
the open air, merely describing a circle in front of the Fair
Rambler with stout posts and fastening canvas thereon ;
but the grand square in Perm happened to be possessed of
a wooden circus for the exercises of the equestrian troupes”
who might pass that way ; and dilapidated as it was, and
proof against neither wind nor rain, it was still strong
enough, and might accommodate two hundred or two hun-
dred and fifty spectators.

In any case, even in its present state, the “circus” was
better than Cascabel’s canvas. He had asked the mayor’s
permission to make use of it during his stay in the town,
and this personage had graciously given his consent.

Not to flatter them, these Russians were really good fel-
lows,—although there were Ortiks and beings of that ilk
among them. But in what country are they not to be found!
As to the circus of the town of Perm, it would not be dis-
graced by the doings of the Cascabel troup! There was
but one thing to be regretted : it was that His Majesty Czar
Alexander II. did not happen to be passing through this
locality. As he was then at St. Petersburg, however, it
would have been hard for him to be present at this inaugu-
ral performance.

One other trouble for Casar Cascabel, was the fear that
his staff might have got somewhat rusty in the matter of
somersaults, dances, and other practices. The rehearsals,
which had been suspended as soon as the Fair Rambler had
entered the pass of the Ural, had not been resumed during
the remainder of the journey. Pshaw, genuine artists
would always be ready to shine in the noble art !

As to the play, it was useless to rehearse it! It had been
gone through so often, and without a prompter, that no un-
easiness need be had on that score.

And now Ortik found it difficult not to betray the annoy-
ance he felt at Mr. Sergius’s prolonged absence. The pro-

~

;
4
A

AN ENDLESS DAY. 347

jected interview not having taken place the night before, he
had been obliged to send word to his accomplices that the
affair was postponed for twenty-four hours. And mean-
while he kept wondering why Mr. Sergius had not returned,
seeing that Mr. Cascabel was distinctly expecting him back
in the course of the evening. Had he been detained at the
chateau? It was likely; for, there was no doubt as to his
having gone there. Ortik should therefore have been less
impatient. But it was stronger than himself, and he could
not refrain from asking Cascabel if he had heard from the
absentee.

“ Not a word !” the latter replied.

“T thought you expected him last night ?”

“Quite so! Something unforeseen must have happened.
It would be a great pity if he could not see our perfor-
mance. It will be simply marvelous! Wait till you see,
Ortik, my friend!”

And Cesar Cascabel spoke in his jolliest tone of voice ;
but at heart he was now truly anxious.

The previous day, after promising to be back before day-
break, Mr. Sergius had started for Walska. Six versts
there, six versts back, a mere nothing. Now, as there was
no sign of him, three suppositions presented themselves
to the showman’s mind: either he had been arrested before
he reached Walska, or he had safely got home but was de-
tained by his father’s state of health, or again, he had been
captured on his way back during the night. As to suppos-
ing that Ortik’s companions had drawn him into some am-
bush, that was out of the question; and to Kayette’s sug-
eestion in that direction he unhesitatingly replied :

“No, Kayette, no! That ruffian Ortik would not be so
uneasy as he has every appearance of being. fle would

hardly have inquired as he did after Mr. Sergius if his

mates had held him in their clutches. The rascal! 5o
long as I don’t see him grinning at the end of a stout rope,

.

ee)

34 CAESAR CASCABEL.
there will be something wanting to my happiness here
below, Kayette!”

Nor was it to Kayette alone Mr. Cascabel’s anxiety was
apparent. How often Cornelia woutd say to him:

“Come, Cesar, try and be calm. You overexcite your-
self! You should be reasonable !”

“ Cornelia, ‘ reasonable’ is all very fine! But aman must
have grounds for being reasonable. Now, there is no deny-
ing the fact that our friend should have been here long since,
and that we know absolutely nothing about him.”

“ Very good, Cesar; but, since nobody can even suspect
that he is Count Narkine.”’

“ No, nobody, unless—”

“What do you mean? ‘ Uuless—’ Is Clovy’s crank
‘unless’ your latest fad ? What do you mean, say? You
and I are the only two who know Mr. Sergius’s secret. Do
you imagine, by any chance, that I have let it out ?”

“ You, Cornelia, fiddlesticks ! Nor I, either!”

faWell-then 7.’

“Well, there are, here in Perm, people who have had
dealings with Count Narkine, years ago, and who might
very well recognize him. It must seem strange, at first
sight, that we should have a Russian amongst us! ‘Then
again, Cornelia, it may be that I exaggerate things; but
you know, I am so fond of that man, I can’t help myself ;
I must stir about, I must!”

“ Caesar, be careful that you don’t excite suspicions with
your stirring about! And above all, don’t go compromise
yourself asking people questions just at the wrong moment.
Like yourself, I think this delay very unfortunate, and I do
wish Mr. Sergius were here! Still, I don’t put the very
worst aspect on things; and I am of opinion that he has
simply been detained by his father at Walska. Now, during
daylight, he is afraid to set out, that’s easy to understand,
but he will come back after nightfall. So, Cesar, no non-

AN ENDLESS DAY. - 340

sense! A little cold blood, if you please, and bear in mind
that to-night you are to play /racassar, one of the greatest
successes of your professional career.”

No sounder reasoning could have been poured into Cas-
cabel’s ear, and it may seem strange that he still kept the
truth from his sensible wife. Still, after all, he may not
have been wrong. Who knows if the impulsive Cornelia
would not have broken loose the seal on her lips at the
sight of Ortik and Kirschef, when she would know what
they were and what they meant to do?

Mr. Cascabel, therefore, held his tongue, and soon left
the wagon to go and superintend his installation at the
circus. Cornelia, on her part, had not too much of Kayette’s
and Napoleona’s help to examine all the costumes and wigs
and accessories for the evening’s performance.

The two Russians, too, were busy (so they said) with the
many formalities to be fulfilled so as to obtain their being
sent home as shipwrecked sailors,—which necessitated nu-
merous Calls, and solicitations, and runs hither and thither.

While Mr. Cascabel and Clovy plied the brush and the
broom, cleaning the dusty seats of the amphitheater, sweep-
ing the ring, etc., John and Sander brought out and ar-
ranged the various objects and utensils indispensable to the
several items on the program. ‘This done, they would have
to see to what the zmpresario described as ‘‘ those brand-new
sceneries,” in which his inimitable artists would play that
beautiful pantomiimic drama, * The Brigands of the Black
Forest.”’

John was more sad at heart than ever. He, of course,
was unaware that Mr. Sergius, in reality a political convict
of the name of Count Narkine, could not remain in his
country, even if he willed. ‘In his eyes, Mr. Sergius was a
wealthy, landed estate owner, returning to his domains,
there to settle with his adopted daughter. What a relief to
his sorrowing heart, if he had known that a residence in

35° CESAR CASCABEL.

Russia was an impossiblity for his respected friend, and
that he would leave the country again as soon as he had
seen his father ; if he could have cherished even a hope
that Mr. Sergius would seek a refuge in France, and that
Kayette would come with him. In such a case, the part-
ing would have been postponed for a few weeks. It would
have been a few weeks more for them to live near each
other.

“ Yes,” John sighed tohimself. ‘“ Mr. Sergius is going to
stay here, and Kayette will remain with him! Ina few days
we shall be off, and then—TI shall see her no more.. Dear
little Kayette! She will be happy in Mr. Sergius’s grand
house—and still !”’

And the poor fellow’s heart sank within him as he thought
over all these things.

It was now nine o'clock ; Mr. Sergius had given no sign
of life yet. What Cornelia had said was turning out true:
he should not be expected now before night time, or at
least before it was so late that he would not run the risk of
being recognized on the road.

“Tf that be so,” soliloquized Mr. Cascabel, “ he will not
even be in time for the performance. Well, so much the
better! I won’t be sorry for it! <A pretty turnout it will
be for the first apppearance of the Cascabel family on the
boards of the Perm circus! With all this worry, I shall be
a complete failure in /racassar, after the glorious figure I
have cut, up to this, in that good man’s skin. Cornelia, let
her deny it as she will, will be on thorns and needles all the
time. Then there is John, who’ll think of nothing but his
little Kayette. Sander and Napoleona are ready to blub-
ber out even now at the thought of her going away—what
a fiasco! Clovy, my old fellow, the honor of the Cascabels
depends on you this night !”

And as the disheartened manager could not keep still in
any one place, the idea struck him to go news-hunting. In

SS

eee

AN. ENDLESS DAY. 351

atown like Perm, news travels fast. The Narkines were well

known and equally loved. In the event of the Count hav-
ing fallen into the hands of the police, the rumor of his ar-
rest would have spread like wildfire ; it would be the topic
of every conversation ; nay, the prisoner would already be
awaiting his sentence under lock and key in the fortress of
Perm, by this time.

So, Clovy was left to finish the preparations of the circus,
and his “boss” set off on his ramble through the town,
along the riverside, where the watermen and their kin
mostly congregate, away in the upper town, down in the
lower districts ; nowhere did the population seem in any
way disturbed from its daily humdrum life. He joined
the groups of gossipers here and there ; he listened with-
out appearing to do so.—Nothing !—Not a word that
could have a reference to Count Narkine.

Not satisfied even with this, he strolled away along the
toad to Walska, by which the police would have brought
back Mr. Sergius if they had taken him prisoner. When-
ever he saw a group of wayfarers ata distance, he imagined
it was a platoon of Cossacks escorting his friend.

In the chaotic state of his brains, Mr. Cascabel had
almost ceased to think of his wife, his children, or himself,
terribly compromised though he would be in the event of
Count Narkine’s arrest. For it would have been the easiest
thing for the authorities to ascertain by what means he had
succeeded in re-entering the Russian Empire, and who the
good people were who had aided and abetted him. And
the Cascabels might have to pay a dear price for their kind-
heartedness.

Of all this going and coming on the part of Mr. Cascabel,
and of his long watching on the Walska road, the result
was that he was not at the circus whena man called and
asked to see him at about ten o’clock in the morning.

Clovy was the sole tenant of the place at the time, and

352 CESAR CASCABEL.

was working away in the middle of a cloud of dust that rose
from the circus track. Out of this cloud he emerged on
perceiving the visitor, who turned outto be a simple mouth ;
and both stood facing each other. Clovy being just as
ignorant of the language of the said moujik as the said
moujik was unacquainted with Clovy’s, the conversation
presented insurmountable difficulties. Nota syllable did
Clovy understand when the man told him he wished to see
his master, and that he had come to look for him at the
circus before going to the Fazr Rambler. All this was
Greek to poor Clovy, the which the moujik perceiving, he
ended as he should have begun, and presented him a letter
directed to Monsieur Cascabel.

This time Clovy was up to the emergency. A letter
bearing the famous name of the Cascabels could only be for
the head of the family—unless it were for Mrs. Cornelia, or
Mr. John, or Master Sander, or Missie Napoleona.

Clovy took it, and, by means of those cosmopolitan ges-
ticulations, intelligible, it would seem,to mankind at large,
he gave the moujik to understand that it was O.K., and that
the letter would reach its destination safely, thanks to him-
self; whereupon he showed him to the door with any
amount of bowing and scraping, but without having been
able to gather the smallest conception of where he came
from or who had sent him.

_ A quarter of an hour later, Clovy was preparing to return
to the wagon, when Mr. Cascabel, more broken-down, more
careworn than ever, appeared at the entrance of the circus.

“ Here you are, sir!’”’ he called.

Bawviellie”’

oLveja letter here |.”

PUA Metter :e,”’

“ Yes, a letter that has just been brought.”

<. Forme?”

PES.) SHE

&

“

Va

THE Movujik ENDED AS HE SHOULD HAVE BEGUN.—/fage 342.

AN ENDLESS DAY. 353

* By whom?”

“ What they call a mouwjtk here.”

“ A moujik?”

“ Yes—unless it’s something else!”

During this purportless preamble, Mr. Cascabel had
seized the letter, and on recognizing Mr. Sergius’s hand-
writing, he had grown so pale that his faithful attendant
startled :

“ What’s up now, boss?”’

“ Nothing.”

Nothing, indeed! And yet our strong-nerved man was
well-nigh fainting in Clovy’s arms.

What did Mr. Sergius say in that letter? Why did he
write to Mr. Cascabel? Evidently to explain the cause of
his absence. Could it be that he was arrested ?

Mr. Cascabel tore open the letter, rubbed his right eye,
then his left eye, and then ran right through the contents.

What a cry he uttered !—some such cry as escapes out of
a strangled throat! His face convulsed, his eyes colorless,
his features paralyzed by a nervous contraction, he strove
to speak, but could not articulate a single sound.

Clovy thought his boss was going to be choked out of
existence, and set about undoing his neck-cloth.

Be it the dread lest Clovy should call for help, be it that
even this terrific emotion had to yield to the iron will of
our hero, he seemed suddenly to recover himself by a super-
human effort, and assuming a mysterious look :

“Clovy,” he said, ‘“‘ you are a discreet fellow ?”’

“TJ guess Iam,-boss. Did I ever let the cat out of the
bag, unless—”’

“ That’s enough; listen! You see this letter ?”’

“ The moujik’s letter?”

“That very same! Well, should you ever tell anybody
I have received it—”’

eves!”

354 CAESAR CASCABEL.

“ Should you ever tell John, or Sander, or Napoleona—”

“Right you are!”

“Or above all, Cornelia, my wife, I swear I'll get you
stuffed for a freak!”

SA livie ss 2

“Ves, alive, so that you may feel it, you fool!”

And before such an awful threat, Clovy trembled from
head to foot.

Then, his master, taking him by the shoulder, whispered
in his ear with an air of princely complacency :

“She is tremendously jealous—is Cornelia! You see,
Clovy, my boy, a man is a good-looking fellow, or he is not!
A lovely woman—a Russian princess !—you understand—
This isa note from her to me. Now that'll never fall to
your lot, with such a nose as that !”

“ Never,” re-echoed Clovy, “unless—”

But, what that restriction could mean in Clovy’s mind
was never ascertained !

CHAPTER XIV.

A DENOUEMENT WARMLY APPLAUDED BY THE SPEC-
TATORS.

HE play, which bore the equally new and attractive
title, “The Brigands of the Black Forest,” was a re-
markable work of art. Composed in strict accordance with
the ancient precepts of dramaturgy, it was based on the
unity of time, action, and place. Its introduction neatly
defined the characters of the various personages, the plot
worked them well into a powerful imbroglio, the dénouement
cleverly disentangled the plot; and, though foreseen, the
issue produced, none the less, a very great effect. Nor did
it lack even the sensational scene so loudly insisted upon by
our modern critics, and that scene was a success,

<oe e

A DENOUEMENT WARMLY APPLAUDED. 355

For the rest, the public should have been ill-advised to
expect from the Cascabel family one of those modern-taste
plays, where all the details of private life are laid in the nude
on the stage ; where, if crime does not actually triumph,
virtue is at times but sparingly rewarded. No, at the closing
scene of the “Brigands of the Black Forest,” innocence
was acknowledged according to the rule, and wickedness
met with due punishment under the most convenient form.
The police suddenly appeared, just as all seemed hopelessly
lost, and when they laid hand on the brigand, the hall
broke out with loud cheers.

No doubt about it, the piece would have been written in
a simple, powerful, personal style, respectful of grammar;
and free from those pretentious neologisms, those documen-
tary expressions and realistic terms of the new school,—if
it had been written. But it was not written any more than
spoken, and hence it could be played on all the stages, as
on all the trestles, of the two worlds. An immense advan-
tage this is for dumb shows, not to speak of the many errors
of grammar and of orthoepy, which are entirely avoided in
this kind of literature.

A remark has been made above anent the style of drama
that should not be expected from the Cascabel family.
The simple fact is that Cesar Cascabel himself was the
composer of the particular masterpiece in question. ‘ Mas-
terpiece ” is the word, since, adding up the old world with
the new, it had been played three thousand one hundred and
seventy-seventimes! Andhe had so contrived it as to bring
out in striking relief the special talents of the individual
members of his troupe, talents so varied and so real that no
such galaxy of artists had ever been presented to the pub-
lic by the manager of any company, whether stationary or
itinerant.

The masters of the contemporaneous drama have very
justly laid down the principle : “On the stage you must

356 CESAR CASCABEL.

always make your audience laugh or cry, or else they will
yawn.” Well, if all the dramatist’s art 1s contained in that
axiom, ‘ The Brigands of the Black Forest’ deserves to be
styled a masterpiece a hundred times over. The spectators
laugh even to tears, and weep—to tears likewise. There is
not a scene, nor part of a scene, where the most heedless
looker-on experiences the desire to open his mouth to
yawn ; and should that sensation, perchance, force itself
upon him as the result of a dyspeptic affection, the incipi-
ent yawn would surely be turned to a sob or a chuckle.

Like all well-planned dramas, this one was clear, rapid,
simple in its evolution as in its conception. ‘The facts fol-
lowed each other in such logical succession as to suggest
the probability of their having happened in the real world.

Let the reader judge of it by the following necessarily
succinct account.

It was the story of two lovers who worshiped each
other,—and for convenience sake, let it be stated, right here,
that Napoleona was the fair loved one, and Sander was the
young swain. But alas, Sander is poor, and Napoleona’s
mother, the haughty Cornelia, will not hear of the match !

The particularly new point in the plot is that ‘“ the course

of true love” is, in addition, prevented from “ running

smooth” by the presence of a long, lanky suitor, Clovy,
with pockets as full of gold as his skull is void of brain ;
and that the mother—here perhaps the author’s inventive
genius shines forth with more éc/a¢ still—the mother, who
has an eye to the gold, does not ask better than to give him
her daughter.

It would be really difficult to weave a plot more dexter-
ously or to render it more interesting. Needless to say
that silly Clovy never opens his lips, but the audience
expects him to drop some absurd saying or another. He
is ridiculous in his person, ridiculous in his disjointed gait,
and has a habit of poking his overgrown nasal appendix

se
a

i oe a

Cowen

his
| wn

pial

‘© THAT WILL NEVER FALL TO YouR LOT, WITH SUCH A NOSE
AS THAT !""—Page 354.

A DENOUVUEMENT WARMLY APPLAUDED. 357

everywhere. And when he stalks forward with his two wed-
ding presents, John Bull, the ape, grinning from ear to ear,
and Jako, the parrot (the only one of all the artists who
speaks in this piece), the effect is side-splitting.

The boisterous laughter soon subsides, however, before
the profound grief of the two young people, who can see
each other only by stealth.

And now the fatal day has come for the sealing of the
union, forced by Cornelia upon her daughter. Napoleona
has been decked in the most charming style, but her tearful
face is the picture of despair. And truly, it is a crime to
give away the pretty little dove to that ugly-looking stork.

All this takes place on the village green in front of the
church. The bell rings ; the doors are thrown open ; the
bridal cortége has but to enter. Sander is there kneeling
on the marble steps ;_ they will have to trample him under
foot. It is heartrending.

Suddenly, a young warrior appears, and the canvas walls
tremble at his presence. It is John, the brother of the
broken-hearted bride. He is returning from the wars,
after conquering all his enemies,—whose names may vary
according to the country in which the play is acted, Eng-
lishmen in America, Russians in Turkey, Frenchmen in
Germany, and so on, ad infinitum.

The brave and affectionate John arrives in the nick of
time, and will very quickly settle matters his own way. He
has heard that Sander dotes on Napoleona, and that she is
equally enamoured of him. Straightway, having spun Clovy
around with a twist of his powerful arm, he challenges
him to fight, and the half-witted fellow is seized with such
a fright that he gladly gives up all claims to his bride.

This will be readily acknowledged to be a well-filled
drama, and a lively succession of events. But the end has
“not come yet.

The repentant bridegroom turns toward Cornelia to

358 C4SAR CASCABEL.

release her of her promise. Cornelia has disappeared.
There is a general rush in search of her—She is nowhere
to be seen ! ;

Presently cries are heard from the depths of the neigh-
boring forest. Sander recognizes the voice of Cornelia, and
although his future mother-in-law is in question, he does
not hesitate—he flies to her help. Evidently, the proud
lady has been kidnapped by /racassar’s band, perhaps by
Fracassar himself, the famous brigand chief of the Black
Forest.

As a matter of fact, that is precisely what has happened.
While John keeps close to his sister to protect her in case
of need, Clovy tugs at the church bell and alarms the vil-
lagers. A shot is heard—The public pants for breath. It
would be hard for the stage to tax the fibers of the human
heart farther.

It is at this moment that Mr. Cascabel, in the full Cala-
brian costume of the terrible /vacassar, appears on the
scene at the head of his men, catrying off Cornelia in spite
of her masculine resistance. But the heroic youth returns
with a brigade of policemen, booted right up to the hip.
His mother-in-law is delivered, the brigands are captured,
and the happy Sander marries his beloved Napoleona.

It is but right to add that, owing to the small number of
the performers, the main body of the brigands never appears
on the scene, nor does the full platoon of policemen. On
Clovy devolves the task of imitating their various cries and
shouts behind the scenes, and he does it so perfectly as to
deceive the hearers. As to the captain of the brigands, he
has to put the handcuffs on his own hands for want of
available supernumeraries. Withal,it could not be repeated
too emphatically, the effect of this finale—thanks to its
eloquent rendering—is extraordinary.

Such then was the offspring of Caesar Cascabel’s mighty
brain, which was about being played at the circus of Perm,

A DENOUEMENT WARMLY APPLAUDED, 359

Certain it was of its usual success, provided the interpreters
should be up to the standard of the piece.

Generally speaking, they were so: Mr. Cascabel was as
terrible as any bandit could look ; Cornelia was infatuated
with her noble birth and fortune ; John, a true knight (old
style), Sander very sympathetic, Napoleona such as would
move the heart of a stone.

But, it must be confessed, the Cascabel family was not
up to its habitual merry pitch on this occasion. Sad looks
and sad hearts were the order of the day; and on the
“histrionic boards,” what would become of the necessary
spirit? The play of the features would be uncertain, the
gesture-replies would not be given with the required clear-
ness. Perhaps the tearful episodes might be more life-like
since everybody felt inclined to weep; but whenever fun
and frolic held their court, the piece was likely to prove, as
its author had said, a painful fiasco.

The noon-day meal was laid on the table. At the sight
of the still vacant chair,—bitter foretaste of the approaching
parting,—the general gloom became more intense, if possi-
ble. Nobody was hungry, nobody was thirsty. There was
more than enough to exasperate the meekest of managers.
Cascabel could not stand it, and he would not if he could.
He had eaten as much as four navvies and drank in pro-
portion. Why should others act differently ?

“ Now then!” he exclaimed. ‘Is this going to last
much longer? I see nothing but faces as long as my arm,
all around the table ; to begin with you, Cornelia, and end
with you, Napoleona. Why, Clovy is the only one whose
face is about half admissible! NowI won’t have that, I
say I won’t have it, at all! I must have cheerful people
about me! To-night everybody must act his part with a
smile on his face, and put plenty of “ go”’ into it, and bring
down the house! I say everybody must—or, by the blood
of my fathers—!”

360 CAESAR CASCABEL.

This was the xe plus ultra of Cascabel’s wrath, and when-
ever he uttered the fearful threat, the hearers knew there
was nothing left them but to obey.

This terrific explosion, however, had in no way interfered
with the bringing forth of a new idea in the fruitful brain of
the said Cascabel, an event of habitual occurrence in ali crit-
ical circumstances.

He had resolved on complementing his play, or rather in
adding to the strength of his mse en scene; in what man-
ner will be known forthwith.

It has been said that, hitherto, for lack of hands, the brig-
ands and their pursuers were wisely kept out of sight.
The brigand Fracassar-Cascabel was a host in himself.
Still, he thought very judiciously that the piece would be
more effective if there was a general muster of all the actors
in the drama, in the final scene.

He should see to recruiting a few supers for this occasion.
And, as good luck would have it, had he not Ortik and
Kirschef just at hand? Why should these two “ honest
sailors’ decline to play the part of highwaymen ?

Before he left the stormy dinner-table, he explained the
situation to the former, and added :

“ How would you two like to take a part in the perfor-
mance as robbers? You would render me a real service,
friends !”

“ Why, of course!”’ said Ortik. ‘I don’t ask better, nor
Kirschef, either ; do you, mate?”

Kirschef assented at once, it being naturally the interest
of the two ruffians to be on the best terms with their
hosts.

“That’s all right, then, my friends,” continued Mr. Cas-
cabel. “ Besides, you will only have to come on with me
when I appear on the scene, just at the winding up, and
you'll have to do just like me: roll your eyes around, throw
your arms and legs about, and roar with rage. You'll see:

A DENOUEMENT WARMLY APPLAUDED. 361

it’s the easiest thing out! Ill bet a hundred to one you'll
make a prodigious hit !”

Then, after a moment's thought :

“ By the way, the two of you will only make two brigands.
That’s not enough. No, for /racassar had a whole gang
under his orders. If I could get five or six more men, the
effect would be grander! Mightn’t you find me, round
about the town, a few ‘disengaged gentlemen’ who would
not say ‘no’ to a good bottle of vodka and a half rou-
ple?)

Ortik cast a furtive glance toward Kirschef.

“Most likely we might, Mr. Cascabel. Last night, at
the tavern, we met half a dozen fellows.”

“ Bring them, Ortik; fetch them here this evening, and
my dénouementis A 1!”

“ That's a bargain, sir.”

“Very good, my friends !—What a performance this is
going tobe! What a sensation for the public!”

And when the two sailors had got quite out of sight, Mr.
Cascabel was seized with such a fit of irrepressible laughter
that several of his vest-buttons were shot about in the little
room.

Cornelia feared he might go into convulsions.

“Cesar, you should really not laugh in that way so soon
after eating! ”’ she said to him.

“Cornelia, my dear—did your husband smile? Why, I
am in no mood for doing any such thing !—If I did, it was
unknown to myself. At heart I am truly grieved! Just
- think of it! Here it is, one o’clock! And our good Mr.
Sergius is not back yet! And he won't be in time to make
his début as the prestidigitateur of the troupe, either!
Could anything be more unlucky !”

And while Cornelia returned to her dresses, he walked
out, merely remarking he had some few indispensable
errands to go on.

362 C4SAR CASCABEL.

The performance was to commence at four o’clock,—a
saving of artificial light, the apparatus for which was sadly
deficient at the Perm circus! In any case, was not the
bloom on Napoleona’s cheeks fresh enough, and her
mother’s handsome features sufficiently well-preserved to
make them boldly face the glare of broad noonday ?

It would be difficult to realize the effect produced in the
little town by Cesar Cascabel’s wonder-telling bill, not to
speak of Clovy’s big drum, which for a whole hour had filled
the streets with its unearthly rattle. All the Russias of the
Czar must have been roused from their slumber!

The result was that, at the aforesaid hour, quite a crowd
besieged the circus: the governor of Perm, with his wife
and children ; a certain number of his subordinates, and
several officers of the citadel could be seen waiting for the
eventful moment, as well as a quantity of small traders,
brought to town by the fair; in a word, an enormous con-
course of people.

At the door the musical element of the troupe was in full
force and vigor: Sander, Napoleona, and Clovy were there,
with French horn, trombone and tambourine ; and Cornelia,
in flesh-color tights and pink skirt, presided at the drum.
The discordant pandemonium was only fit for moujiks’
ears !

Nor should Cesar Cascabel’s powerful voice be forgotten,
calling out in good and intelligible Russian :

“Take your seats! Take your seats, ladies and gentle-
men! It is forty kopecks per seat—without any distinc-
tion! Now is the time to go in!”

And as soon as the ladies and gentlemen had taken their
seats on the benches of the circus, there was an eclipse of
the orchestra, the members of which had now to take their
several parts in the evening’s program.

The first part was gone through without a hitch. Little
Napoleona on the tight-rope, young Sander in his contor-

A DENOUEMENT WARMLY APPLAUDED, 363

tions, the clever dogs, the ape and the parrot in their
drolleries, Mr. and Mrs. Cascabel in their displays of
strength and of skill, obtained a real success. Of the warm
applause bestowed on such deserving artists John also had
his share. With his mind elsewhere, his hand may not per-
haps have done full justice to his talent as an equilibrist.
But this was detected by none but the master’s eye, and the
public never dreamt that the poor fellow was far from being
heart and soul in his work.

As to the human pyramid, which preceded the interlude,
it was unanimously encored.

In truth, Mr. Cascabel’s verve and humor in presenting
his artists, and looking around for the ever-ready applause
they merited so well, had been astounding. Never had
this superior man shown to a greater extent how fara deter-
mined nature can master its own self down. The honor of
the Cascabel family was safe! Its name would be handed
down among the Muscovites with every token of admira-
tion and respect.

But, if the spectators had followed the first half of the
program with interest, how impatiently they looked forward
to the second! Nothing else was spoken of, the whole
length of the extr'acte.

It lasted for ten minutes,—ample time to take a mouth-
ful of fresh air out-of-doors,—then the crowd flowed in

again, and not a vacant seat was left.

Ortik and Kirschef had returned, a full hour since, with
a half dozen supers, who—-the reader has guessed—were,
of course, the former companions they had met in the Ural
pass.

Mr. Cascabel madea careful survey of his new force.

“Good heads!” he remarked. ‘Good faces! Well
built frames! Too candid a look, perhaps, for highway-
men! Well, with wigs @ /a hedgehog style and beards to
match, I’ll make something of them !”’

364 C4ESAR CASCABEL.

And as he did not come forward till the very end of the
piece, he had all the time necessary to do up his recruits,
rig them up, dress their hair,—in a word, turn them out
as presentable brigands.

And now, Clovy gave the three knocks.

At this moment, in a properly fitted theater, the curtain
rises as the last note of the orchestra dies away. If it did
not rise this time, it is because it is in the nature of circus
tings not to have a curtain, even when they are trans-
formed into stages.

At the same time, let it not be imagined that there were
no “ properties,’ at least in appearance. On the left, a
large cupboard, with a cross painted onits door, represented
the church, or if you like the chapel, the steeple of which
was naturally somewhere behind the scenery! In the center
lay the village green, portrayed to life by the sandy ring !
To the right, a few shrubs in wooden boxes, skilfully dis-
played, gave a sufficient idea of the whereabouts of the
Black Forest.

The piece opened amid the deepest silence. How pretty
Napoleona looked, with her little striped skirt, slightly aged,
her “ love of a hat” laid just like a flower on her fair head
of hair, and above all, her eye so innocent and soft. The
first lover, Sander, in a tight-fitting orange-colored vest,
considerably faded in the creases of the sleeves, told her
his tale of love with such affectionate looks that no spoken
language could have been more eloquent.

But, how to describe, in a fitting manner, the apparition
of Clovy, with his absurd wig of fiery-red hair, stalking in,
and pointing his legs like stilts, first one here and then the
other there; his brainless though pretentious look ; his nose
foredoomed to carry goggles; and the grimacing ape and
the loquacious parrot that followed in his wake !

And now comes Cornelia, a woman who will make a for-
midable mother-in-law! She pitilessly dismisses Sander,

ay ray
Hips rl

Lh

SUDDENLY A PLATOON OF CossAcCKS INVADE THE CIRCUS

Rinc.—Page 300.

A DENOUEMENT WARMLY APPLA UDED, 365

and yet it is easy to feel that under her faded costume there
throbs a heart worthy of a matron of the olden days.

Great success for John, when he appears dressed as an
Italian carabineer, He is very sad, poor fellow. He looks
as if his thoughts were bent on other things beside his part.
How much he would prefer to play Sander’s, with Kayette
for his lady-love, and to have nothing more to do than lead
her to the altar. And what a waste of time all this was,
when they had so few hours to be together now !

However, so powerful was the dramatic situation, that it
carried away the actor. How could it be otherwise, when
we think onit! A brother returning from the wars, dressed
as a carabineer, and taking the defense of his sister against
the haughty prejudices of a mother and the ludicrous aspira-
tions of a fool!

Superbly grand the scene between John and Clovy.
The latter trembles with terror, and to such an extent that
his teeth are heard to chatter, and his nose grows visibly
longer and longer, until it suggests the idea of the point of
a sword, that would have entered by the back of his head
and would make its way out in the middle of his face.

Just then, cries, loud and repeated, are heard behind the
scenes. Young Sander, carried away by his bravery, or
perhaps bent on suicide,—for life is now a burden for him,—
plunges into the thick of the forest of stage shrubs. The
wild echoes of a violent struggle reach the audience, then
the report of a gun.

And fracassar, the leader of the brigands, bounds upon
the scene. He is truly terrific, with his pink tights almost
turned white, and his black beard well-nigh grown red. His
fiendish gang follow in his footsteps. In their midst are
Ortik and Kirschef, whom no one could know under their
wigs and make-up. Cornelia is seized by the terrible chief.
Sander rushes to defend her as usual,—and here it seems
as though the customary dénouement will be spoilt on this

366 (C4SAR CASCABEE.

occasion, for the situation has assumed a different as-
pect. i

Hitherto, when Mr. Cascabel represented the whole
band,—single-handed,—John, Sander, their mother, their
sister, and Clovy himself, were in a position to keep him in
check, waiting for the police, who were “pointed to” as
coming in the distance behind the “properties.” But, here
was fracassar, supported by eight real, flesh and bone,
visible-to-the-naked-eye ruffians, whom it would be very
hard to overpower. And there was every reason to ask how
the whole thing would end, so as to keep within the limits
of naturalness.

Suddenly, a platoon of Cossacks invade the circus ring.
Who could have expected so providential an issue !

The truth was, that manager Cascabel had spared no
trouble to give his performance the most extraordinary
éclat, and the dramatis persone were all there to a man.
Policemen or Cossacks were all one, as a matter of course.
In the glance of an eye, Ortik, Kirschef, and all their com-
panions are thrown to the ground and firmly pinioned,—
this, the more easily, as it was their part to let themselves
be captured after a mere show of resistance,

And now a voice is heard above the din :

“ Not me, thank you, my brave Cossacks! These fellows,
as long as you like; but I am not in that swim,—not I—
only for fun!”

Whose voice is that? Why, it is that of Fracassar, or
rather Mr. Cascabel, who now stands up, a free man, while
his men, duly handcuffed, are in the power of the authori-
ties.

And was this a reality ?—It was ; and this had been the
latest of Caesar Cascabel’s grand ideas. After engaging
Ortik and his associates in his troupe, he had communicated
with the Perm police and had told them of a splendid haul
to make, This explains the opportune appearance of the

A DENOUEMENT WARMLY APPLAUDED. 367

Cossacks, just as the d¢énouement of the piece required their
presence ; the masterly stroke had been a complete suc-
cess ; the whole band of malefactors were wriggling in vain
in the net of their captors.

But presently Ortik was on his feet, and pointing Mr.
Cascabel to the captain of the Cossacks :

“JT denounce that man to you,” he cried. ‘He has
brought back a political convict to Russia! Ah, you have
betrayed me, you cursed rope-dancer ; well, I betray you in
my turn!”

“Betray away, my friend!” quietly replied Cascabel,
with a knowing wink.

“And the convict he brought back is a runaway from
Iakousk fortress ; his name is Count Narkine!”

= @uite true; Ortik |”

Cornelia, her children, and Kayette, who have gathered
around, stand speechless with terror.

At this moment one of the spectators rises from his
seat—it is Count Narkine.

iene he is!’ yells. Ortik.

“ That isso! Iam Count Narkine!” answers Mr. Ser-
gius, unmoved.

“Yes, but Count Narkine amnestied and free !”’ exclaims
Mr. Cascabel, with a heroic peal of laughter.

What an effect on the public! The strongest minds
might well be unhinged by all this reality mingled with the
fiction of the play! Indeed, a portion of the beholders may
have gone home with a confused idea that the “ Brigands
of the Black Forest’? had never wound up in any other
Way.

A few words will suffice to explain.

Since the time when Count Narkine had been picked up
by the Cascabels on the Alaskan frontier, thirteen months
had elapsed, during which he had had no news from Russia.
How could it have reached him among the Yukon Indians

368 CAESAR CASCABEL.

or the natives of Liakhov? He was, therefore, unaware
that six months ago a ukase of Czar Alexander II. had
amnestied all the political convicts in the same category as
Count Narkine. The prince, his father, had written to him
in America that he might now return home in safety ; but
the count had already left the country and the letter had
been returned to the sender. The anxiety of Prince Nar-
kine, when he ceased to hear from his son, can well be im-
agined. He lost all hope, thought him dead, perhaps, in
exile. His health declined and he was in a critical state,
when one night Mr. Sergius arrived at the chateau. What
untold bliss it was for the prince to see his son again, and
announce to him that he was a free man once more!

The count, naturally unwilling to leave his father after a
few hours’ interview, had sent a letter to Cascabel, telling
him that everything was now all right, and that he would
not fail to be at the circus for the second part, at least, of
the performance.

It was then Mr. Cascabel had conceived the glorious
idea that the reader knows, and had taken measures to
“net ”’ Ortik and his whole gang. |

On hearing the explanation of the final scene, the specta-
tors grew wild with delight. Vociferous hurrahs burst out
on all sides, and a storm of indignant curses accompanied
the brigands on their way out under the safe escort of their
captors.

Mr. Sergius, too, needed to be told the secret of this cap-
ture : how Kayette had discovered the hideous plot against
him and the Cascabels ; how the young woman had risked
her life in following the two sailors into the wood on the
night of the 6th of July ; how she had told all to Mr. Cas-
cabel, and how the latter would not breathe a word of it to
Count Narkine or to his own wife.

“A secret from me, Cesar; a secret ?”’ asked Cornelia, in
a would-be reproachful tone,

“THERE HE Is!”—Fage 367,

—— ee SS lhl;

CONCLUSION. 369

“The first and the last, wifey ! ”

She, of course, had forgiven him already.

“You know I did not say it through selfishness. Ex-
cuse the word, won’t you, Count Narkine ?”

“Don’t say ‘Count Narkine.’ Let me always be Mr.
Sergius for you, my friends, always Mr. Sergius,—and for
you too, my child,” he added, clasping Kayette in his arms.

CHAPTER XV.
CONCLUSION.

ZESAR CASCABEL’S journey has at last come to an
end! The /azr Rambler has now only to cross Russia
and Germany to get on French soil, and the north of France,
to be in Normandy. A pretty long trip, no doubt; but as
compared with the ten or eleven thousand miles it has just
covered, it is but a trifle, just “a ride you could have ina
hackney coach,” as Mr. Cascabel used to say.

Yes, it has come to an end, and a better end than might
have been expected after so many adventures! Never was
there a happier termination,— even in that admirable piece
“The Brigands of the Black Forest,” the issue of which
gave the greatest satisfaction to all parties concerned, save
Ortik and Kirschef, who were hanged a few weeks later ;
and save, likewise, their companions, who were sent off to
Siberia for the remainder of their days.

The question of the separation now forced itself on all
our friends with all the gloom of its hopeless perspective.
How would it be solved ?

Well, in avery simple manner.

The very night of the memorable performance, when all
the artists had met together in the Fair Ramdler, Count
Narkine said :

“ My friends, I am conscious of all that I owe you, and I

370 CAESAR CASCABEL.

should be an ungrateful being if I ever forgot it. What
canI do for you? My heart bleeds at the thought of part-
ing with you! Now, come, how would it suit you to remain
in Russia, to settle and live here on my father’s domain ?

Mr. Cascabel, who did not expect such a proposal, thought
for an instant :

“Count Narkine—”

“Do call me Mr. Sergius, never any other name—to
please me!”

“ Well, Mr. Sergius, we are greatly touched. Your offer
shows all your kindly feeling for myself and mine. We
thank you from our hearts. But, you know, home is home.”

“JT understand you,” interrupted the count. ‘“ Yes, I
quite feel with you. Well, since you insist on returning to
France, to your dear Normandy, I should be very happy to
know that you are snug and comfortable in a nice little
country house, with a farm, and a few acres of land around
you. There you might rest after your long traveling.”

“Don’t imagine we are fatigued, Mr. Sergius !”’ exclaimed
Czesar Cascabel.

“Come, my friend, speak to me openly. Do you care
very much to keep to your profession ?”

““ Of course, since it is our bread-earner.”

“ You w7// not understand me,” continued Count Narkine,
“and you pain me thereby! Will you deny me the satisfac-
tion of doing something for you ?”’ .

“ Never forget us, Mr. Sergius,” said Cornelia ; “that is
all we ask of you; for we, on our part, will never forget
you,—nor Kayette!”’

‘“Oh, mother!” cried the young woman.

“T can’t be your mother, dear child!”

“ Why not, Madame Cascabel ?”’ asked Mr. Sergius.

“ How could I, now?”

‘“‘ By giving her to your son as a wife !

All the effects produced by Manager Cascabel in the

.
Te
7

CONCLUSION. 371

course of his glorious career were nothing to that produced
by these words of Count Narkine.

John was beside himself with joy, and kissed over and
over the hand of Mr. Sergius, who pressed Kayette against
his breast. Yes, she should be John’s wife, while continu-
ing to be the count’s adopted daughter! And John would
stay with him as his private secretary. Could Mr. and Mrs.
Cascabel ever have dreamt a better position for their son ?
As to accepting from Count Narkine anything more than
the assurance of his continued friendship, they would not
hear of it. They had a good trade, they would go on
with it ! :

It is then that young Sander pushed his way to the front,
and with faltering voice but beaming eyes, said : :

“Why should you go on with it, father? Weare rich!
We don’t want to work for our bread !”’

And so saying, he drew out of his coat pocket the nugget
he had picked up in the forests of Cariboo.

“ Where did you make that out ?” asked his father, seiz-
ing the precious stone between his fingers.

Sander related how he came by it.

“ And you never told us about it?” exclaimed Cornelia.
“ You have been able to keep such a secret all this time!”

“Yes, mother, although it often teased me. I wished to
give you a surprise, you see, and say nothing till we had got
home !”

“Vou are a darling boy!” said Cascabel. “ Well, Mr.
Sergius, here’s a windfall just at the right moment! Look
at it, sir! It’sa nugget! Real gold. Nothing to do but
change it!”

Count Narkine examined the stone attentively, and
weighed it up and down in his hand to estimate its value.

“ Ves.” he said, “it is real gold! It weighs at least ten
pounds.”

“And that’s worth ?”’ inquired Cascabel.

372 CAESAR CASCABEL.

“Tt’s worth twenty thousand roubles!”

“ Twenty thousand roubles!”

“That’s so! And as to changing it, it is the simplest
thing in the world. You see, ladies and gentlemen, one,
two, three!”

And, prestissimo ! the worthy pupil of Czsar Cascabel
had substituted- for the nugget a well-filled pocket-book,
which passed into Sander’s hand like a flash of light-
ning.

“That’s splendidly done! exclaimed the professor.
“Had I not told you, sir, you had a wonderful natural apti-

tude for the art?” -
‘‘What is there in your portfolio?” asked Cornelia of
the, youngster.

“The value of the nugget,” replied Mr. Sergius, “ noth-
ing more, nothing less !” :
. And, sure enough, it was found to contain a check for
twenty thousand roubles on Rothschild Brothers of Paris.

What was the intrinsic value of the nugget? Was it a
lump of gold or a vulgar stone that young Sander had so
conscientiously brought home all the way from the Colum-
bian Eldorado? This will never be known. The Casca-
bels were, of course, obliged to take Count Narkine’s word
for it, and trust to the friendship of Mr. Sergius, which, in
their eyes, was a more precious treasure than the wealth of
His Majesty the Czar.

The Cascabel family remained in Russia for one month
longer. The Perm fair and the Nijni fair were now laid
aside ; but could father, mother, brother, and sister have
taken their departure before witnessing the wedding cere-
mony of John and Kayette! It was celebrated in great
pomp at the chateau of Walska, and never was a young
couple united midst a concourse of happier people.

“Eh, Ceasar? What, do you think?” said Cornelia,

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CONCLUSION, 373

nudging her husband as they came out of the manorial
chapel.

“Just what I said all through !”’ he replied.

A week later, both of them, with Sander, Napoleona, and
Clovy,—who must not be forgottep, for he was really one
of the family,—took leave of Count Narkine, and started
for France with the Fazr Rambler, but by rail this time,
and by fast train, if you please !

Mr. Cascabel’s return to Normandy was an event, Cor-
nelia and he became big propriétaires in the neighborhood
of Pontorson, and were known to have a nice lump sum
laid up for Sander and Napoleona.

Count Narkine, John, his secretary, and Kayette, the
happiest of wives, came to see them every year ; and of
their welcome it were idle to speak.

Such is the faithful tale of this journey, which might be
reckoned one of the most surprising in the series of “ Extra-
ordinary Travels.” Of course all “ ends well” and “all is
well.” What else could have been expected when that good
Cascabel family was in question ?

. THE END.

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UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA LIBRARY
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