Baron Trump's Marvellous Underground Journey
very much attached to them, and so had Bulger, and after their departure
we both felt as if we were now, for the first time, among strangers in a
strange land; but I succeeded in engaging, as I thought, a trustworthy
teamster, Ivan by name, who made a contract with me for a goodly wage to
carry me a hundred miles farther north.
“But not another step farther, little baron!” said the fellow doggedly.
I was now really at the foot hills of the Northern Urals, for the rocky
crests and snow-clad peaks were in full sight.
I turned many a wistful look up toward the wild regions shut in by their
sheer walls and parapets, shaggy and bristling with black pines, for a
low, mysterious voice came a-whispering in my inward ear that somewhere,
ah, somewhere in that awful wilderness, I should one day come upon the
portals of the World within a World! In spite of all I could do Bulger
took a violent dislike to Ivan and Ivan to him; and if the bargain had
not been made and the money paid over, I should have looked about me for
another teamster. And yet it would have been a foolish thing to do, for
Ivan had two excellent horses, as I saw at a glance, and, what’s more,
he took the best of care of them, at every post rubbing them until they
were quite dry, and never thinking of his own supper until they had been
watered and fed.
His tarantass, too, was quite new and solidly built and well furnished
with soft blankets, all in all as comfortable as you can make a wagon
which has no other springs than the two long wooden supports that reach
from axle to axle. True, they were somewhat elastic; but I could notice
that Bulger was not overfond of riding in this curious vehicle with its
rattlety-bang gait up and down these mountain roads, and often asked
permission to leap out and follow on foot.
At length Ivan reported everything in readiness for the start; and
although I would have fain taken my departure from Ilitch on the Ilitch
in as quiet a manner as possible, yet the whole village turned out to
see us off—Ivan’s family, father, mother, sisters, and brothers, wife
and children, uncles and aunts and cousins by dozens alone making up
people enough to stock a small town. They cheered and waved their
kerchiefs, Bulger barked, and I smiled and raised my cap with all the
dignity of a Trump. And so we got away at last from Ilitch on the
Ilitch, Ivan on the box, and Bulger and I at the back, sitting close
together like two brothers that we were—two breasts with but a single
heart-beat and two brains busy with the same thought—that come perils or
come sudden attacks, come covert danger or bold and open-faced
onslaught, we should stand together and fall together! Many and many a
time as Ivan’s horses went crawling up the long stretches of mountain
road and I lay stretched upon the broad-cushioned seat of the tarantass
with a blanket rolled up for a pillow, I would find myself unconsciously
repeating those mysterious words of Don Fum:—
“The people will tell thee! The people will tell thee!”
So steep were the roads that some days we would not make more than five
miles, and on others a halt of several hours would have to be made to
enable Ivan to tighten his horses’ shoes, grease the axles, or do some
needful thing in or about his wagon. It was slow work, ay, it was very
slow and tedious, but what matters it how many or great the
difficulties, to a man who has made up his mind to accomplish a certain
task? Do the storks or the wild geese stop to count the thousands of
miles between them and their far-away homes when the time comes to turn
their heads southward? Do the brown ants pause to count the hundreds of
thousands of grains of sand which they must carry through their long
corridors and winding passages before they have burrowed deep enough to
escape the frost of midwinter?
There had been many Trumps, but never one that had thrown up his arms
and cried, “I surrender!” and should I be the first to do it? “Never!
Not even if it meant never to see dear old Castle Trump again!”
One morning as we went zigzagging up a particularly nasty bit of
mountain road, Ivan suddenly wheeled about and without even taking off
his hat, cried out,—
“Little baron, I cover the last mile of the hundred to-day. If thou
wouldst go any farther north thou must hire thee another teamster; dost
hear?”
“Silence!” said I sternly, for the fellow had broken in upon a very
important train of thought.
Bulger, too, resented the man’s insolence, and growled and showed his
teeth.
“But, little baron, listen to reason,” he continued in a more respectful
tone, removing his cap: “my people will expect me back. I promised my
father—I’m a dutiful son—I—”
“Nay, nay, Ivan,” I interrupted sharply, “curb that tongue of thine lest
it harm thy soul. Know, then, that I spoke with thy father, and he
promised me that thou shouldst go a second hundred miles with me if need
were, but on condition that I give thee double pay. It shall be done,
and on top of that a goodly present for your _golubtchika_ (darling).”
“Little baron, thou art a hard master,” whimpered the man. “If the whim
took thee thou wouldst bid me leap into the Giants’ Well just to see
whether it has a bottom or not. St. Nicholas, save me!”
“Nay, Ivan,” said I kindly, “I know no such word as cruelty although I
do confess that right seems harsh at times, but thou wert born to serve
and I to command. Providence hath made thee poor and me rich. We need
each other. Do thou thy duty, and thou wilt find me just and
considerate. Disobey me, and thou wilt find that this short arm may be
stretched from Ilitch to Petersburg.”
Ivan turned pale at this hidden threat of mine; but I deemed it
necessary to make it, for I as well as Bulger had scented treachery and
rebellion about this boorish fellow, whose good trait was his love of
his horses, and it has always been my rule in life to open my eyes wide
to the good that there is in a man, and close them to his faults. But,
in spite of kind words and kind treatment, Ivan grew surlier and moodier
the moment we had passed the hundredth milestone.
Bulger watched him with a gaze so steady and thoughtful that the man
fairly quailed before it. Hour by hour he became more and more restive,
and upon leaving a roadside tavern, for the very first time since we had
left Ilitch on the Ilitch, I noticed that the fellow had been drinking
too much _kwass_. He let loose his tongue, and raised his hand against
his horses, which until that moment he had been wont to load down with
caresses and pet names.
“Look out for that driver of thine, little baron,” whispered the
tavern-keeper. “He’s in a reckless mood. He’d not pull up if the Giants’
Well were gaping in front of him. St. Nicholas have thee in his safe
keeping!”
CHAPTER III
IVAN MORE AND MORE TROUBLESOME.—BULGER WATCHES HIM CLOSELY.—HIS
COWARDLY ATTACK UPON ME.—MY FAITHFUL BULGER TO THE RESCUE.—A
DRIVER WORTH HAVING.—HOW I WAS CARRIED TO A PLACE OF SAFETY.—IN
THE HANDS OF OLD YULIANA.—THE GIANTS’ WELL.
When we halted for the night it was only by threatening the man with
severe punishment upon my return to Ilitch that I could bring him to rub
his horses dry and feed and water them properly; but I stood over him
until he had done his work thoroughly, for I knew that no such horses
could be had for love or money in that country, and if they should go
lame from standing with wet coats in the chill night air, it might mean
a week’s delay.
Scarcely had I thrown myself on the hard mattress which the
tavern-keeper called the best bed in the house, when I was aroused by
loud and boisterous talking in the next room. Ivan was drinking and
quarrelling with the villagers. I strode into the room with the arrows
of indignation shooting from my eyes, and the faithful Bulger close at
my heels.
The moment Ivan set eyes upon us he shrank away, half in earnest and
half in jest, and called out,—
“Hey, look at the _mazuntchick_! [Little Dandy!] How smart he looks! He
frightens me! See his eyes, how they shine in the dark! Look at the
little demon on four legs beside him! Save me, brothers! Save me—he will
throw me down into the Giants’ Well! Marianka will never see me again!
Never! Save me, brothers!”
“Peace, fellow,” I called out sternly. “How darest thou exercise thy
dull wit on thy master? Get thee to bed at once, or I’ll have thee
whipped by the village constable for thy drunkenness.”
Ivan clambered up upon the top of the bake oven, and stretched himself
out on a sheepskin; then turning to the tavern-keeper, I forbade him
under any pretext whatever to give my servant any more liquor to drink.
“_Akh, Vasha prevoskhoditelstvo_ [Ah, your Excellency!]” exclaimed the
tavern-keeper with a gesture of disgust, “the fools never know when they
have had enough. It matters not what the tavern-keeper may say to them.
They tell us not to spoil our own trade. _Akh!_ [Ah!] they don’t know
when to stop. They have throats as deep as the ‘Giants’ Well!’”
“The Giants’ Well! The Giants’ Well!” I murmured to myself, as I again
threw myself down upon the bag of hay which did service as a mattress
for those who could afford to pay for it. It’s strange how those words
seem to be in every peasant’s mouth, but I thought no more about it at
that time. Sleep got the better of me, and with my usual good-night to
the elder baron and the gracious baroness, my mother, I dropped off into
sweet forgetfulness.
It is a good thing that I had the power of falling asleep almost at
will, for with my restless brain ever throbbing and pulsating with its
own over-abundance of strength, ever tapping at the thin panels of bone
which covered it, like an imprisoned inventor pounding on his cell door
and pleading to be let out into the daylight with his plans and schemes,
I should simply have become a lunatic.
As it was, with the mere power of thought I ordered sweet slumber to
come to my rescue, and so obedient was this good angel of mine, that all
I had to do was simply to set the time when I wished to awaken, and the
thing was done to the very minute.
As for Bulger, I never pretended to lay down any rules for him. He made
it a practice of catching forty winks when he was persuaded that no
danger of any kind threatened me, and even then, I am half inclined to
believe that, like an anxious mother over her babe, he never quite
closed both eyes at once.
Though entirely sobered by daybreak, yet Ivan went about the task of
harnessing up with such an ill grace that I was obliged to reprove him
several times before we had left the tavern yard. He was like a vicious
but cowardly animal that quails before a strong and steady eye, but
watches its opportunity to spring upon you when your back is turned.
I not only called Bulger’s attention to the fellow’s actions, and warned
him to be very watchful, but I also took the precaution to examine the
priming of the brace of Spanish pistols which I carried thrust into my
belt.
We had scarcely pulled out into the highway when a low growl from Bulger
aroused me from a fit of meditation; and this growl was followed by such
an anxious whine from my four-footed brother, as he raised his speaking
eyes to me, that I glanced hastily from one side of the road to the
other.
Lo and behold! the treacherous Ivan was deliberately engaged in an
attempt to overturn the tarantass and to get rid of his enforced task of
transporting us any farther on our journey.
“Wretch!” I cried, springing up and laying my hand on his shoulder. “I
perceive very plainly what thou hast in mind, but I warn thee most
solemnly that if thou makest another attempt to overturn thy wagon, I’ll
slay thee where thou sittest.”
For only answer and with a lightning-like quickness he struck a