Gunpowder Treason and Plot, and Other Stories for Boys

  TWO HEROES.

  The two young counts, Peter and Paul Selsky, were as sturdy a pair ofboys as you'd find in all Russia, and as fond of outdoor life andoutdoor sports as though they were very Britons. For this circumstancethey were largely indebted to their tutor, a young graduate of Oxford,Frank Thirlstone, who had lived with them since the death of theirfather, three years ago, and had taught them, besides the Englishlanguage and a smattering of classical lore, something more than theelements of cricket and of golf and other games dear to the heart ofevery British youth. Peter and Paul were now respectively seventeen andsixteen years old, and the period of their tutelage by Thirlstone wasdrawing to a close; for both must shortly enter the Lyceum at St.Petersburg, in preparation for the usual career of young aristocrats intheir country, and Thirlstone would return to England.

  It was winter, and most aristocratic land-owners had long since lefttheir country seats for their warmer mansions in town; but it was notthe custom of the Selskys to leave their beloved outdoor avocations forthe cooped-up amusements of the metropolis for any long period at atime, and they would spend their Christmastide and the New Year at themanor house as usual.

  They were the more inclined to do so because their nearest neighbours,old General Ootin and his daughter Vera, intended to do the same. Sincethe death of his wife, the general had never cared to live in St.Petersburg, preferring to pass his time in the seclusion of country lifewith his adored and certainly most charming daughter. Old Ootin was afine sportsman, devoted to every form of hunting and shooting, andnothing pleased the old man so much as to wander, gun in hand, among hisancestral pine trees, accompanied by pretty Vera. He was an adept in allmatters of tracking, and had taught young Peter and Paul and theirEnglish tutor many a "wrinkle" in the art of bear-hunting, wolf-ringing,and even of calling the lynx and other animals from an ambush--one ofthe most difficult and exciting of all forms of sport.

  Scarcely a week passed even in winter time without some sportingenterprise planned and undertaken by the four men (to dignify Paul andPeter by that title, scarcely yet due them by the operation of time);and when there was a battue or ambush-shooting, Vera nearly alwaysformed one of the party as a spectator. When the sport included longruns upon the snowshoes in pursuit of lynx or elk, the girl, though nomean performer on snowshoes, preferred to leave the hunt to the sternersex.

  One evening the young counts, with Frank Thirlstone, drove over to thegeneral's to dinner, as they frequently did, in order to plan a campaignfor the following day. To their astonishment the old servant in the hallinformed them that "his excellence" was in bed ill, but that his youngmistress was up and ready to receive them.

  Hurrying upstairs to learn what ailed their old friend, the three youngmen found Vera greatly excited, and anxious to tell them the wholestory, which was sufficiently exciting, and may be told in her ownwords.

  "Father and I were wandering in the woods," she began. "He carried a gunwith small shot, for I had asked him to shoot a brace of tree partridgesor so for the house. We heard one whistle in the distance--you know howsharp father's ears are for that kind of sound--and stood to listen. Westood in the midst of a tangle of fallen pine trees--what thepeasants call a _lom_. Suddenly, within five yards of us, there was astartling upheaval of snow and pine twigs, and with a deafening roar abig she-bear rushed straight out at us. We had been standingunconsciously within a few paces of her winter lair, where father saysshe probably has a family of cubs, or she would have been asleep.

  "Father cried out to me to run for my life, which I did, skating away onmy snowshoes at my very best speed. I heard my father fire a shot, butdid not turn round for fear of running into a tree stump and trippingup.

  "Then my father shouted again, and to my horror I found that the bearwas in full pursuit of me, apparently none the worse for the charge ofsmall shot.

  "_I found that the bear was in full pursuit of me._"Page 47.]

  "I could scarcely think for horror. I was some thirty yards ahead; but,since the snow was fairly hard, I knew the beast would soon catch me,and if she did I had nothing but a small Circassian dagger with a silverhandle--the one that Mr. Thirlstone gave me," Vera added with a glanceat the Oxonian and a slight blush, "on my birthday. Then I thought Iwould try to reach a patch of soft snow which I remembered to havepassed over a few minutes before, and in that direction I now turned myshoes. I could hear poor father shouting frantically after me, but itwas impossible to distinguish what he said. I know now that he wished meto lead the bear round in a curve, so that he might shoot her. But Isucceeded in reaching the soft snow, and there my pursuer floundered,while I sped quickly on and gained some yards upon her. This alsoenabled my father to come up closer to the bear, and as he was nownearer to her than I was, and all the noise came from him, she turnedround and charged back at father.

  "Father fired when she was close, but his charge flew like a bullet, andhe missed her. Apparently, however, the shot passed near enough to thebrute to frighten her into discretion; for, having knocked poor fatherbackwards, and run right over him, she took no further notice of him,and retired to her _berloga_ [lair]. Father was much shaken, but notseriously hurt; he will be quite well after a day or two of resting inbed."

  When Paul had an opportunity of speaking privately to Vera, he was veryeloquent in his expressions of gratitude for her deliverance fromdanger. "Ah-rr!" he ended, "the brute; she shall die to-morrow, Vera, Iswear it, for frightening you."

  "Still more for hurting poor father, I hope," she laughed; "but becareful, Paul, for she is savage."

  "I am sorry that the general was hurt," said Paul, "but she shall diefor the other fault."

  Presently Peter took Vera aside, and said almost the same words.

  "If that brute had hurt a hair of your head, Vera," he said, "I shouldhave spent the rest of my life exterminating bears; as it is, this oneshall die to-morrow for frightening you."

  "It is very kind of you, dear Peter, to be my champion; but, please, becareful, for this is a very savage bear, and I would not have you hurt."

  "Bah!" said Peter; "I am not afraid of a bear."

  Vera was an extremely pretty girl, and as she sat at the head of herfather's dinner table dispensing hospitality to her three guests, eachone of the young men evidently recognized this fact, for many admiringglances were bestowed upon her. Both Paul and Peter afterwards madeprivate inquiries as to the exact locality of the day's adventure,neither, however, mentioning his intention to his brother. Presently,while Vera sat at the piano and sang for their delight, Thirlstonestanding by, she asked the Englishman with a laugh whether he did notintend, like the boys, to avenge her upon the bear. Thirlstone laughedalso. He would leave the matter in the hands of her champions, he said;they were quite safe with the beast, and would certainly resent anyinterference. Thirlstone seemed very fond of music, and remained at thepiano with Vera for a long while.

  When Peter went upon his snowshoes early next morning to the placewhere, as described by Vera, the bear had unexpectedly made itsappearance, he was surprised, and somewhat disgusted, to find hisbrother Paul already on the spot.

  "I didn't know you were coming, Paul," he said. "I understood from Verathat I was to have the privilege of punishing the brute that offendedher."

  "I thought the same thing for myself," said Paul. "I suppose sheconcluded we meant to come together. It doesn't much matter, though, solong as the bear is chastised for her sin."

  "If it is all the same to you, brother, I think I should like to be theone to kill it," said Peter. "I am the elder, you see, and--and, well,I've an idea she would like me to do it."

  "Why?" asked Paul in genuine surprise.

  "I'll tell you one day," said Peter; "but perhaps we'd better kill thebear first. If you don't mind, I'll be first spear."

  Good-natured Paul agreed, though sadly against his will, for he too wasvery anxious to serve Vera.

  The brothers had come forth armed with bear spears only--that is, eachcarried a knife in his belt,
but no firearms. They would have thought itbut a shabby enterprise to carry rifles. Bear-shooting from the_berloga_ was too easy to be sportsmanlike.

  But a fall of snow during the night had obliterated all the tracks ofthe preceding day, and though they knew that they must certainly bewithin a hundred yards, more or less, of the exact spot from out ofwhich the creature had charged only yesterday, they could not be surewhich of many clumps of fallen pine trees and forest _debris_ was theone referred to by Vera in her description of the occurrence.

  "One of us had better run home and fetch Milka," said Peter. He expectedthat Paul would immediately volunteer to fetch Milka, and he was notdisappointed.

  "If you are to have first spear," said Paul, "then I'd better go for thedog, as the bear may come out while I'm away."

  So away ran young Paul, skating beautifully upon his long snowshoes,anxious to reach home, fetch the dog, and bring him back before hisbrother should find the bear and finish operations without him.

  Milka was a wonderful little dog, half terrier, half nondescript, whosenose and instinct for localizing a sleeping bear were most surprising, atalent as useful to her masters as remarkable in itself.

  When Paul had disappeared, Peter, not with any mean desire to steal amarch upon his brother, but simply because he was tired of doingnothing, strode hither and thither upon his snowshoes examining thelikely places, half hoping the bear would come rushing out upon him, yethalf sorry for Paul if it should. As for any feeling of fear or evennervousness about having to withstand all by himself the rush of afurious bear, the mother of a family, and therefore very dangerous, suchan idea never for an instant occurred to him.

  For half an hour Peter strolled from thicket to thicket without startingthe fury of yesterday. He began to grow weary of waiting. Would Paulnever return with the dog? Poor old Paul, it was rather hard on him tohave claimed the elder brother's privilege; but then Paul didn'tknow--well, something he (Peter) suspected as to Vera's feelings. ForPeter had not claimed the privilege of first spear, he assured himselfover and over again, with any mere selfish motive, but because he knewVera would rather he killed this bear than Paul; and it couldn't reallymatter to Paul, because--

  Peter's reflections had just reached this stage when, with a sudden andmost startling rush, and a roar such as is never heard from the mouth ofa sleepy and semi-comatose creature just awakened and sallyingunwillingly from its winter lair, the big bear set flying the snow andice which had formed a covering to the hole in which, with her cubs, shelay snugly beneath the upturned root of a pine tree, and made straightfor the aggravating person whose presence close to her den had rousedher into the state of insensate fury so easily developed by herquick-tempered tribe.

  Peter barely had time to kick off his snowshoes and push them out of hisway, to plant his heels securely, and present his formidable spear atthe proper angle, when the great brute was upon him, or, to be moreaccurate, upon his spear.

  This was a weapon of tough, seasoned, most carefully tested wood,provided with a murderous steel head and point, and a projecting notchtwo feet from the sharp end, designed to prevent the shaft from passingright through the animal attacked. Down upon the slightly-raised pointcame the heavy bear, with an impetus which nearly carried Peter overbackwards. That is the first crisis of bear-spearing, and a dangerousone it is, for should the hunter fall upon his back, the bear would fallover him, to tear and maul at his discretion, or until his own terriblewound put an end to his power to do mischief.

  Peter withstood the shock with difficulty. He had never had to deal witha bear, up to this time, either so large or so savage. The way it nowbit and tore at the hickory shaft, which had entered into its flesh tothe depth of at least nine inches, was truly terrible by reason of therelentless savagery displayed in the onslaught. But the shaft wasstrengthened with iron side-supports, and was, moreover, a magnificentpiece of wood, and Peter felt little fear that the wounded beast wouldrip or break it; she might tear off a few splinters--she was busilydoing so already--but the good shaft would stand the strain. As for thepower she would presently exert in pushing back at her assailant, thatwould be a different matter. She was hugely heavy, and Peter greatlyfeared that he would have trouble.

  Only for a few moments she bit and tore at the spear handle; then shesuddenly abandoned these tactics, and, looking full at her aggressor,she roared loudly, and began to push forward in order to get at him.

  Peter was prepared to exert his strength, and exerted it. For aminute--two minutes--he checked the bear's advance. Then she seemed togather strength, and, pulling herself together, made a supreme effort.It was as though the heavier forwards in a scrimmage at football forcedback the weaker side inch by inch and foot by foot. Peter felt himselfgiving ground. He, too, made his effort, stemming the advance for fiveseconds, no more. Then again the bear pushed him steadily back, andPeter now began to realize that unless Paul came quickly to hisassistance this bear-hunt might end after a fashion which would beunpleasant for himself as well as for the bear.

  He shouted aloud, repeating Paul's name half a dozen times. The bearreplied with a couple of loud roars and many quaint moans andcomplaining noises; but there was no reply from Paul. Peter's strengthwas failing rapidly, but the bear was still strong. How long could herstrength hold out? Back went Peter step by step; he would continue togrip the spear at any rate.

  "You're booked anyway, my friend," he panted aloud. "You're punishedfor frightening Vera; and if you kill me she'll cry till her eyes arered, but no one will cry for you. As for your cubs, Paul will come alongand kill every one of them."

  Back went Peter, a step or half a step at every word. Suddenly the buttof his spear came full against a pine trunk.

  "Thank God!" said Peter; "that will give me breathing time."

  Strong as she was, and full of indomitable courage and of fight, thefurious bear could not now push her assailant an inch farther. Thisenraged, maddened her, and with a curious moaning roar she pressedherself forward an inch or two farther upon the shaft. Peter laughedaloud, and mocked her. "I have you now," he said; "push as hard as youplease, you can't uproot a pine tree."

  She did her best, however, and for several minutes she strove madly tobreak down Peter's guard, but vainly. Then suddenly he heard the yelpingof Milka, and knew that help was at hand.

  Peter was terribly tired, and his strength was nearly spent,nevertheless he determined to make one great effort to finish the fightunaided. Pulling himself together, he drew in his breath; then, with agreat backward push against the tree, he put all his remainingstrength into one great rush forward.

  For a moment his success was complete and signal. Just as he had givenground but a few moments before, the bear now yielded to his renewedattack. For a second or two she slipped and scrambled backwards, and waswithin an ace of toppling over, which toppling is the end and object ofthe bear-spearer, for once down, he has the creature at his mercy; butthis bear was a grand specimen of endurance and of splendid savagecourage and fortitude. She made yet another effort.

  Back a second time went Peter. He was far too young and weak to pithimself against so doughty a champion as this. Back he went, step bystep. He shouted for Paul, and Paul replied. Would he never arrive?

  "Come quickly; I am worsted," cried Peter. He looked half round for hisfriendly tree trunk, and saw it. If he could walk backwards straight forit, he might still do without his brother. The spear butt touched thetrunk. "Ah!" panted Peter, "now I may breathe!"

  But, alas! the shaft met the tree trunk at an angle and slipped. Peterhad slightly slackened his hold, and as the expected support from behindfailed him, he slipped and fell backwards. In an instant his hands letgo the spear; the great brute, impaled upon it, fell forward upon him.

  "Paul, Paul!" screamed poor Peter. "God help me!"

  "_'Paul, Paul!' screamed poor Peter._" Page 60.]

  Had Paul arrived one moment later, he might have remained at Selsky forall the good he could have done his brother. The bear woul
d have won thevictory, which, to speak the strict truth, she thoroughly deserved. ButPaul arrived just in time to snatch the victory from Madam Bruin'sgrasp; the fates were dead against her.

  Young Paul knew very well indeed where to plant his knife-blow, so thateven so large and powerful an animal as this would not require a second.He was upon her, and had delivered his attack, striking hard andstraight from over her shoulder, in a moment of time. Down went thebrave, fearless beast--all her courage and all her strength had notavailed her--falling right over Peter, and in her last gasp of lifestill consciously striving to involve her enemy in her own ruin. Sheopened her mouth and actually took Peter's arm between her teeth, buthad no strength to use her jaw in order to rend it, dying with openmouth, showing immense, formidable teeth, which were harmless to woundthe prey that lay at her mercy just one instant too late. Paul withdifficulty dragged her away, and allowed his brother to rise to hisfeet.

  "Whew!" he said, "she's heavy--thirty-five stones at least. She pushedthee over, Petka, I guess, like a ninepin."

  "I was like a wheelbarrow in her hands," laughed Peter. "She pushed mewhere she would. Thy coming was well timed."

  "Well, you've killed the bear that offended our Vera," said Paul, "andthat is the chief thing."

  "It is thanks to you that there is not more to avenge than Vera'sfeelings," said Peter, with some emphasis. "I am grateful for your help,Paul; but do not say too much of the danger I stood in when we reportthe adventure to Vera. She might, you will understand, be somewhat upsetto hear of the narrow escape I have had."

  "What I understand, and I suppose you mean me to understand, is thatVera's heart is yours," said Paul softly; "and if that be so, it is apossession which you must value highly, and which many would envy you."

  "But not you, I trust, brother? Though I am but a year older, I havelooked upon you as too young to think of such things, and have assumedthat you would have observed for yourself that Vera and I are notindifferent to each other."

  "No, I have not observed it," said Paul; "on the contrary, I havethought that you, for your part, were somewhat indifferent to her, whileshe--but no, I will not say that which I have in my mind, for I knownothing but what you have told me."

  "No, speak on. As for myself, I do not think I am in love, as it iscalled; maybe I am not yet old enough. But I have certainly thought thatVera has long regarded me differently from others. Now say what you weregoing to say."

  "I confess, then, that I have wondered more than once whether our goodThirlstone has not anticipated us--I mean you--in the matter of Vera.She loves us as brothers, no doubt, but Thirlstone--"

  "No, you are wrong," interrupted Peter; "for some while ago I accusedher of this very thing, which she utterly denied. 'How should I haveroom in my heart for any besides father and you?' she said; and sheadded, 'Please, please, dear Peter, say nothing of what you havesuspected either to my father or to the other.' She blushed very much,and was quite ashamed, I could see, that I should have connected hername with Thirlstone's. Well, since that she has been so gentle and soaffectionate with me that I have quite made up my mind that she regardsme, as I say, with particular favour. One day I shall be in love withher, I suppose."

  "I see," said poor Paul. He said little more, and made no mention of thefact that he himself had regarded Vera with boyish admiration ever sincehe could remember, and had always looked upon her as his future bride,in the foolish, taken-for-granted way of persons of his age.

  As a matter of fact, Vera had never looked upon either lad as anythingmore than familiar friends and playmates, and would have laughed withexquisite merriment had she overheard the conversation of the two boys,as recorded above. But, as small things ape the larger, both Peter andPaul were entirely in earnest, the one in his conviction that he owedspecial allegiance to this fair lady because, as he imagined, he hadbeen chosen as the object of her special affection, and the other in hisdetermination to sacrifice himself without a murmur in pure devotion tothe idol his imagination had set up.

  Neither of the brothers said much about the adventure with the bear.They brought the skin home and presented it to Vera, who thanked themboth in her quiet, undemonstrative way, and asked who killed it.

  "I speared her," said Peter, "but Paul finished her off with his dagger,so that we both had a hand in avenging you, Vera."

  "Oh, I had not much to do with it," said Paul. "Thank Peter, not me,Vera."

  "I thank both my knights," said Vera, offering her hand to each in turnto raise to his lips, Russian fashion.

  It was but a few days after this adventure with the bear that the twolads were involved together in another and even more dangerous one, ifthat were possible.

  It was the eve of the new year, and both were, of course, invited to seethe year in at the Ootin mansion--a function which they had attendedevery thirty-first of December since they could remember.

  Frank Thirlstone, the tutor, had driven over earlier in the day in orderto sit with the general, with whom he was a favourite, and who was stillmore or less an invalid after his late "rough-and-tumble" with the sinceexterminated bear.

  The young counts chose the forest road in preference to a shorter onethrough the open country, and they did so because the forest is alwaysfull of possibilities--such as hares, foxes, tree partridges, and even,on exceptionally lucky days, a stray wolf. They drove in a light sledgedrawn by two wiry Finnish ponies, sitting together on the floor of thesledge, which was not only without a box seat, but also without furtheraccommodation for passengers than that which was supplied by a bag ofstraw thrown into the loosely-constructed shell of the vehicle. Peterhandled the reins, having his gun loaded with slugs at his feet, whilePaul held his own in his hands.

  The weather had been exceptionally cold for the last few days, and inview of this fact the brothers were not without hope of seeing a wolf ortwo. They had, indeed, brought with them what, in their part of theworld, was frequently used as a lure for hungry wolves--namely, a youngpig securely fastened in a sack, and carried in the bottom of the sledgeat their feet. The unusual sensation of being shut up in a sack and ofbeing jolted about as the sledge bumps its way over the uneven roadcauses the little creature to squeal almost without ceasing, and thenoise is certain to attract any empty-stomached wolf within a mile ortwo.

  This is especially the case when the weather has been very severe, andfood scarce, under which circumstances a wolf becomes wondrouslycourageous and venturesome; and if the occupant of the sledge keeps hiseyes open, he will be pretty sure to be rewarded with a sight of one ortwo of the grey fellows for whom he has prepared a special charge oflarge shot.

  Both Paul and Peter were of the kind who keep their eyes very wide openindeed, especially in the forest. The moon was up, and the pines,covered with rime, like silver wire-work, made a fairyland of the sceneas the two drove silently along the narrow road. They were silent of aset purpose, for wolves will not so readily make their appearance if thesquealing of the pig is accompanied by the voices of human beings.

  "Peter," whispered Paul suddenly, "move your head cautiously and look onyour left, just behind the sledge, and forty paces away among thetrees."

  Peter turned his head round very gradually.

  "Yes," he said; "all right; that's he. Keep quite quiet and he'll comemuch nearer."

  A few moments later Paul whispered again,--

  "There's another on the right--no, two more."

  "Ha!" Peter whispered back, "that's good. This looks like business.We're in luck to-night."

  "If one comes within twenty-five paces, I think you might shoot," Peteradded presently; "only remember how slugs scatter."

  "I see five now," said Paul. "Three on the left, and two on the right."

  "And there are three more cantering along ahead of us on the left,and--yes, two nearer in on the right."

  "That's ten then," said Paul. "If there are many more to come, Petka, itwill amount to a pack, and that, they say, is dangerous."

  Peter whipped up the
horses, which had begun to lag, snorting andturning their ears backward and forward. They had become aware of thewolves, and were not altogether comfortable in their minds.

  "I never saw a pack yet," said Peter. "I shall be glad if I do now. Itis difficult for me to believe that a skulking beast like a wolf can bedangerous."

  "Anyway we are all right with our guns and plenty of cartridges."

  "I haven't many slugs though--six, I think; the rest of mine are smallershot," said the elder brother.

  Every moment one brother or the other reported more wolves in sight, andmore again. Presently there were over twenty. Several were now muchnearer than before, and somewhere in among the pines one wolf bayed.Instantly there was heard a babel of sounds. A score of wolf throatsresponded to the call, and there rose a perfect pandemonium in theforest--howls and bayings and snarlings sufficiently alarming to causeeven the stoutest heart to beat a little quicker.

  Peter laughed. "We are in for it, I verily believe, Paul," he said."Shoot a couple of the rascals, and see whether they'll stop to pullthem to pieces."

  Paul fired both barrels, and in a moment a pair of gaunt, grey creatureswere down and struggling in their death-throes. Two or three of theirfellows stopped for a moment to snarl over and worry the flesh of theirexpiring comrades, but the squealing pig was too tantalizing to beallowed to die away in the distance and be lost, with all its lusciouspossibilities, and they left the cannibal feast and continued the chase.

  Now they grew momentarily bolder. They ran in, baying and howling, anddared to approach quite close to the sledge.

  "Shoot again, and keep shooting," said Peter. "This is grand."

  Paul shot another, and missed one, and then killed two more; but theslaughter did not seem to thin the ranks. There appeared to be as manyas ever when these had been left behind half eaten.

  Now one rushed in and leaped up at the off pony, which shied and nearlyupset the sledge. Paul promptly shot it. Another took its place, andPaul wounded this one also, its fellows quietly giving it the happydispatch.

  Peter began to look grave, and calculated the distance still to betraversed; it was about three miles.

  "We are in danger, Paul; there isn't a doubt of it," he said.

  "Keep shooting and give them no peace, especially any that attack thehorses. That's the chief danger."

  A few minutes later this danger had become acute and imperative.

  The wolves were now attacking, not the horses only, but also the edgesof the sledge, leaping up and evidently trying to get at the pig, whosesqueals seemed to madden them with the desire to taste pork.

  "Peter," said Paul suddenly. He had been silent for several minutes, and

  Peter had concluded with some displeasure and some scorn (for he lovedand admired his brother) that he was frightened. Paul's speech soondisabused him of this erroneous idea. "Peter," he said, "I have justbeen thinking that it would be a better chance for both of us if onestopped here and kept the brutes at bay, and the other went on. Verylikely only a few would follow the sledge. I choose staying here. Ishall be all right with my gun. Yours is the more valuable life, yousee; you know why--what you told me the other day. So drive on, dearbrother, and if God wills it I shall join you later in the evening."

  Before Peter had half taken in the meaning of this rigmarole, Paul, tohis brother's infinite astonishment and horror, deliberately stepped outof the sledge. As Peter whirled away he saw his brother stumble, recoverhimself, walk to the nearest pine tree, and place his back to it. Nearlyall the wolves had meanwhile stopped, and for the moment disappeared,after their own mysterious manner. Seeing that a succulent human beinghad remained behind for their delight, the great majority remained also,very few resuming the pursuit of the sledge.

  In two minutes a second human being came running down the road andjoined the first. The wolves were charmed. This was better luck thanthey had expected. The few which had continued the chase presentlypulled up and consumed the two ponies. They also found the pig and atehim, sack and all.

  "Paul, how could you?" cried Peter, embracing his brother in spite ofall the wolves. "You are more to me than ten Veras. Did you think Ishould leave you to fight these fellows alone?"

  Paul said nothing, but he returned his brother's embrace with interest.

  "Place your back to mine, old Pavlushka," said Peter, "and shoot andshoot till we scare them. We shall be as safe as possible, now we aretogether."

  "_Place your back to mine, old Pavlushka!_" Page 73.]

  And shoot they did. Never was such a fusillade heard in the peacefulforest as on that night. Never were wolves so disgusted, sodisenchanted, as on that painful occasion. A dozen or so fell, nevermore to prowl and howl; the rest, after much baying and snarling from asafe distance, retired in order to go forth and tell all young wolvesand strangers of the discovery they had made that night--namely, that itis better to follow a sledge and eat horses and young pig than to staybehind to feast upon human creatures who fall out, and would thus seemto be the easier prey. This has since become a maxim among wolves.

  Then the brothers walked quietly home. They passed the broken sledge andthe bones of the poor ponies. A wolf or two still lingered here, butthey discreetly retired; they were well fed, now, and no longercourageous.

  "Get into the sledge, Paul, and I'll drag you home," said Peter, "likethe hero you have proved yourself."

  "Nonsense," said Paul; "you mock me, brother."

  "I mean it," said Peter, and would have insisted, but that the sledgewas found to be too much damaged for use.

  "I hope they are not anxious about us," said Peter, as the pair reachedthe Ootin mansion and passed upstairs. "We will pretend we walked forchoice; no need to alarm them."

  But no one was alarmed. The little party awaiting their arrival here hadbeen too busy to have time for anxieties. It was Vera who told the news.She took a hand of Paul and a hand of Peter. "Dear brothers," she said,"you both love me so well, and I you, that no other lips but mine shalltell you of the happiness the new year has brought me. I am to bemarried to one who is dear, I know, to both of you--Mr. Thirlstone."

  "It is strange," said Peter that night, as the brothers lay in bed andtalked over the events of the day, "how little I seem to mind Vera beingengaged to the Englishman. How could I have been such a fool as tothink--you know--what I told you?"

  "I expect we are both rather young for that kind of thing," said Paul,with a sigh. "I think hunting is more in our line, brother; weunderstand that better."

  In spite of which wise and true remark, Paul cried himself to sleep thatnight, Peter being fast asleep long before, and quite unconscious thathis younger brother was engaged in a second attempt to play the hero--anattempt which, this time, was partly a failure.