Boris the Bear-Hunter
CHAPTER VII.A RACE FOR LIFE.
It has been already mentioned that Boris had promised to instruct hismaster in the art of calling various animals. In this art Boris wasmarvellously expert, and could imitate the cry of the wolf, lynx, andother creatures so exactly that if any member of the particular familywhose language he was imitating chanced to be within hearing, it wouldinvariably respond to his call--sometimes to its destruction, if itdid not find out in time that it had been made the victim of a grossdeception. The practice of this art was a source of unfailing delightand amusement to the Tsar during that weary drive of hundreds of milesthrough the plains and forests of northern and central Russia; for mostof the journey was performed by land, though the Dwina offered a goodwater-way for a considerable distance.
The aptitude of Boris for imitation extended to the calling of birdsas well as beasts, and many were the tree-partridges that were luredby him to their doom, and subsequently eaten by the monarch with muchenjoyment as a welcome change from the sour cabbage-soup and blackbread and salt, which were for the most part all that the party couldget to subsist upon.
It was rarely, indeed, that wolf or lynx ventured to approach closeenough to the carriage of the Tsar to permit of a successful shotwith his old matchlock; but these animals, wolves especially, werefrequently seen at a distance, appearing for an instant amid the gloomof the dense pines, but rapidly disappearing as soon as they hadascertained that they had been deceived. But once, when within twoor three days' journey of Moscow, this now favourite pastime of theTsar came near to involving himself and Boris in a fate which wouldhave saved the present writer the trouble of following any further thefortunes of Boris, and would have caused the history of Russia, andindeed that of Europe, to be written in an altogether different manner,for the stirring pages of the life and work of Peter the Great wouldnever have been penned at all.
Boris, as usual, was reclining easily in the front seat of thetravelling carriage, idly smoking and chatting, and now and again, atthe bidding of Peter, who occupied the back seat, sending out loudinvitations in wolf language, in the hope that some wandering member ofthe family might happen to be within call and respond to his advances.Of a sudden Boris's cries were answered; a melancholy howl wasdistinctly heard by both men to proceed from within the heart of thedense forest through which the road lay. The howl appeared to proceedfrom a distance of half-a-mile, and was instantly followed by a seconda little further away. The Tsar quickly sat up, gun in hand, whileBoris excitedly reiterated his cries, producing tones so patheticallymelancholy that the wolf would be hard-hearted indeed that could resistso touching an appeal for companionship. To his surprise, however,there came not one reply but several; half-a-dozen wolves, seemingly,had heard the invitation, and were hastening to respond to it. This wassplendid. The young Tsar was now extremely excited.
"Howl away, Boris," he whispered; "there are several of them. We aresure of a shot this time!"
Nothing loath, Boris continued his howlings, and at each repetitionthe number of wolves that took part in the responding calls appearedto increase, until some twenty distinct voices could be made out, eachcoming from a slightly different quarter.
Ivan the driver turned half round and crossed himself; then he spat onthe ground--a sure sign of discontent in a Russian; then he addressedthe young Tsar with the easy familiarity of an old Russian servant.
"Stop it, Peter, the son of Alexis," he said; "there are too manywolves here! My horses will lose their heads if they see them.--Don'thowl any more, Boris Ivanitch, if you love your life!"
Boris himself was looking somewhat grave, for he was well aware of thetruth of old Ivan's remark that there were too many wolves--it was apack, not a doubt of it; and the character of wolves when in a pack isas different from that of the same animals when alone or in pairs as isthe harmless malevolence of a skulking beggar in the streets comparedwith the mischief-making capacity of an armed and howling mob of roughsand blackguards. But the Tsar had never seen a pack of wolves, and knewlittle of the dangers of which both Boris and Ivan were well aware;therefore he directed the former to continue his calls, bidding Ivan,at the same time, keep a proper hold upon his horses if he was afraidof them.
Old Ivan crossed himself once more and spat a second time, but hegathered up the reins as the Tsar commanded. As for Boris, he lookedgraver than ever, and howled in a half-hearted manner.
In a very few moments the vanguard of the wolf-host made itsappearance. First one gaunt, gray-pointed snout appeared amid the pineson the right of the road, then another; almost at the same instantthree cantering forms hove into view close behind; and two more wereseen taking a survey in front of the horses' heads.
Peter was in a high state of excitement; he thought nothing of thedanger of the moment--it is doubtful whether he realized it. Hisgun-barrel was raised and pointed now at one gray form, now at another,as each in turn appeared to offer a better chance of a successfulshot. Just as he fired, however, the horses had caught sight of theleaders of the pack, but a few paces from their noses, and the suddenapparition so startled them that all three shied with one accord,bringing the wheel of the tarantass into a gigantic rut, and so nearlyupsetting the carriage that the gun flew out of Peter's hands as heclutched at the side of the vehicle to save himself from being pitchedout.
The next instant the horses, entirely beyond the control of poor Ivan,were dashing along the road at full gallop, the wolves acceleratingtheir easy canter in order to keep up. It now became apparent thatthere were many more of these grim-looking creatures present thanhad at first seemed to be the case; indeed, the wood on either sideof the roadway appeared to swarm with their gaunt figures, whilenumbers followed behind, and a few headed the carriage. Even Peter,now that his gun was lost to him, began to feel that the positionwas not so agreeable as he had thought; while Boris said little, butwatched gravely the slightest movement of the leaders of the wolf-mob,loosening the knife at his side the while and bidding Peter do the same.
"How far to the next post-station, Ivan?" the Tsar shouted presently.
"Twelve versts," Ivan shouted back, without turning his head.
It was all the old man could do to keep the horses' heads straight; somad were they with terror that they would have rushed wildly into theforest at the side of the road if permitted to do so.
Twelve versts are eight English miles, and Boris was well aware thatthe wolves would be unlikely to content themselves with passivelyfollowing or accompanying the carriage for so great a distance;they would, he knew, attack the horses before very long, for theirexcitement would carry them away into what wolves with cool heads wouldconsider an indiscretion. Occasionally a wolf would push ahead of itsfellows, impelled by the desire to have the first taste of blood,advancing its gray nose so close to the side of the carriage that Borisor his master was able to aim a vicious dig at it, and once or twice ahowl of pain attested to the fact that the blow had reached and eitherscratched or gashed the indiscreet assailant.
And so, for several miles, matters remained. Boris began to take heart,for half the journey had been accomplished, and if nothing more seriouswere attempted by the wolves than had been ventured by them up tillnow, there was no reason to fear any evil consequences. The wolveswould pursue them thus up to within a few yards of the village, andthen slink back into the woods to reflect upon what might have been hadthey been more enterprising.
Peter clearly shared the favourable view of Boris; no gloomy fearsoppressed his sturdy mind. He laughed as he gashed at the trespassers,calling them all the bad names in the Russian vocabulary, including"cholera," which is a favourite term of abuse in that country, forsufficiently apparent reasons, and "Pharaoh," which, with less obviouspoint, is to a Russian the most irritating and offensive of all the badnames you can call him.
But while the two young men were thus busily engaged in the hinderportion of the carriage, a cry from old Ivan on the box caused them todesist from their exciting occupation and to look ahead. Not a momenttoo
soon had the old driver uttered his warning note. Three huge wolveshad pushed in front of their fellows and had commenced their attackupon the horses, just as Boris had feared would be the case. The fiercebrutes were leaping up on either side, attempting to seize the horsesby the throat, but making their springs as yet in a half-hearted way,as though they had not quite worked themselves up to the necessarypoint of audacity. The poor horses, however, at each spring of theirassailants, jerked up their heads in terror, losing their step, andthus causing a new danger, for at the present rate of speed a stumblefrom any of the three might have had fatal results to the occupants ofthe carriage.
Boris realized the danger in a moment. Quickly directing his companionto remain where he was and attend to the attack from the rear, hesprang upon the coach-box, and thence upon the back of the shaft-horse.The other two horses were attached to the carriage by pieces of ropeonly, fastened to leather collars about their necks; and it was thesetwo outsiders against whose flanks and throats the wolves were nowdirecting their attacks. Boris with difficulty obtained a position uponthe back of one of them, lying along its spine and hitching his feetinto the rope at either side, while he clasped the leather collar withone hand and held his long sharp knife in the other. In this awkwardand insecure position he managed to slash at the wolves, two of whichwere now making determined springs, as though resolved at all hazardsto pull the unfortunate horse down and put an end to this prolongedchase.
It was a good fight. Boris aimed his blows well, and before a coupleof hundred yards had been covered one of the rash assailants, leapingrather higher than before, received a dig from the big knife that senthim yelping and somersaulting among his fellows, and a detachment ofthem quickly fell behind to eat him up. This did not affect the rest,however, and Boris found that he had about as much as he could do tobeat off the constantly increasing number of assailants.
Meanwhile another warning from old Ivan caused Boris to look up fora moment, when he became aware that the second outsider was in needof instant assistance. A large wolf had succeeded in effecting for amoment a hold upon the throat of the poor brute, which had, however,either shaken or kicked it off again with its galloping front legs.Peter was fully occupied in beating off the increasingly audaciousattacks of the rearguard, while Ivan could, of course, give him noassistance. Boris quickly made up his mind that something must be done,and that instantly, or one of the horses must inevitably be pulleddown, with fatal results to all parties. Thereupon Boris slashed withhis knife the rope which attached the left-hand horse; and as theanimal, feeling itself free, darted towards the forest, he was pleasedto see that it was immediately followed by a dozen gray pursuers, whichwere thus drawn away from the main body. Horse and assailants quicklydisappeared among the trees, whither the historian is unable to followthem, and the last tragedy of that steed, and its escape or death, wasplayed out far away in the heart of the pine forest.
And now recommenced that fierce fight between Boris and his numerousantagonists which had been interrupted for a moment by the lastrecorded incident. Deftly as Boris fought, the wolves were soaggressive and numerous that it soon became apparent to the hunter thatthey were gaining ground upon him, and that in all probability theywould succeed before long in pulling down one of the two remaininghorses, which he was striving so determinedly to defend. Boris wasaccustomed to make up his mind quickly in cases of emergency. Heshouted back to the Tsar to hand up to Ivan the long bear-spear whichwas strapped to the side of the tarantass. With this weapon he directedIvan to prod at those wolves which attacked the shaft-horse, while hehimself confined his attention to those whose springs were aimed atthe remaining outsider. Old Ivan rose to the occasion; he gathered thereins in one hand, and with the other struck manfully at the bruteswhich ever swarmed at flank and throat of the poor shafter. Some of hisblows grazed the horse's shoulder and neck, causing it to rush on witheven greater speed. The post-village was now but a mile away, and ifonly Boris could keep off the swarming brutes for a few minutes longerthe Tsar would be safe.
"Slashing at the wolves which swarmed about him."_Page 81._ ]
On flew the horses, and on hacked Boris; while Peter, in the carriage,slashed at the hindmost wolves, and old Ivan prodded bravely andshouted loudly at those in front. If things were to go wrong, and heshould be unable to keep the leaders at bay until the Tsar was insafety, Boris knew what he would do.
Meanwhile the chase went on for another half-mile. Then the outsidehorse, harassed beyond endurance by the ever-increasing number of hisassailants, stumbled repeatedly. In an instant Boris had slashed in twothe cords which attached him to the vehicle, and freed from the incubusof the carriage, the poor animal darted forward and turned aside intothe forest, Boris himself still lying full length upon its back, butassuming as quickly as he could a sitting posture. In this position,still slashing at the wolves which swarmed about him, and waving adieuto the Tsar with his left hand, he disappeared from sight; and in thedistance the horrified Peter heard the clatter of his horse's hoofs asthe devoted hunter was borne away from him to his doom.
For one wild moment Peter was for bidding Ivan direct the carriage inpursuit; but the absurdity of such a course was apparent on the faceof it, and the Tsar was obliged, with grief and reluctance, to leavehis faithful servant and friend to his fate. At least half the wolvesor more had followed Boris into the depths of the forest, and Peter andIvan together succeeded in keeping the rest at bay long enough to allowthe panting shafter to drag the carriage in safety to within sight ofthe village, when, with a gasp of despair, the poor creature stumbledand fell, causing the carriage to stop suddenly with a jolt thatalmost unseated the driver. Peter, with that personal courage in whichhe has never been surpassed, leaped out to cut the traces and allowthe gallant animal which had served him so well to gallop for life.Seeing him on foot, the wolves, unable even now to overcome altogethertheir natural terror of man, drew off for a moment, and in that momentPeter freed the horse, which dashed madly away into the woods like itsfellows, followed by all the wolves with the exception of two or threewhich preferred to hang about the two men as they walked on towards thevillage, but not daring to approach within striking distance of spearor knife. When within a few yards of the first dwelling-house of thevillage, these disappeared into the forest also, looking round once ortwice ere they finally retreated, and licking their lips, as thoughtheir imagination dwelt upon the delights of a feast that might havebeen.
The Tsar was morose and silent; and his attendants, who arrived withinan hour after himself, and who declared that they had met neitherwolves nor Boris, left the young monarch to his supper, avowing to oneanother that they had never yet seen the Tsar so terrible to look upon.