Boy Nihilist

on the eve of sailing, and asked me as afavor to hand the letter to Prince Mastowix. I did so without suspectingthat I was in any danger."

  "But it appears that you were in danger, and as I learn from St.Petersburg, that letter by some means or other got into the hands of theauthorities, he was arrested, brought before the tribunal, proven to bea Nihilist in disguise, and executed. It is very strange," he added.

  "But I am not to blame, and why should I suffer for the faults ofothers?"

  "Well, you should not."

  "Then send me back to St. Petersburg," said Barnwell, eagerly.

  "That I cannot do without an imperial order. But I will forward theparticulars of your case to the authorities, and then, if they see fitto act favorably towards you, I will send you back again with pleasure,"replied the governor, who was not altogether bad at heart.

  "How long will it take?"

  "That I cannot say."

  "And what of the money that was taken from me, and my passport, and notreturned?"

  "Well, sir, if you succeed in establishing your innocence, they will berestored to you. Was your passport franked by the American Minister?"

  "Yes; and that should enable him to establish both my identity and myinnocence."

  "But it might take him a long time to show the Imperial Government thatyou are not an enemy to Russia."

  "But it can be shown."

  "We shall see."

  "And in the meantime must I remain in that dungeon?"

  "No, I will remand you to the guard-house until I can find employmentfor you."

  "Thank you for this much, governor. I have lately inherited a fortune,and had just set out on a tour around the world, when this unexpectedoccurrence stopped me. I am also engaged to be married to a lovely girl,who knows nothing of me since I parted with her in London for the solepurpose of delivering this unfortunate letter, and if you can forwardmatters any, you will not only win a substantial reward, but thegratitude of loving hearts."

  "I will see what can be done," said he, waving him away.

  "Please do."

  "Take him to the guard-house and treat him as a prisoner of the secondclass until you hear from me again," said the governor to the guard,speaking in Russian.

  And William Barnwell was marched away by them with a somewhat lighterheart.

  The governor of Siberia sat meditating for some time after being leftalone.

  He had been a schoolmate of Paul Mastowix, and well remembered that evenas a boy his chief characteristic was hypocrisy, and even in after yearshe had many times suspected the loyalty of the man, and was not at allsurprised to learn that he was an active Nihilist behind a mask ofloyalty.

  And it was so strange that the innocent cause of his sudden downfallshould now come under his charge. The fact gave him an interest in theyoung man which he would not otherwise have had, for he evidentlybelieved his story.

  So he set to work to think of a place where he could put him until suchtime as he could make sure regarding him, and after consulting with thesuperintendent, he concluded to put him into the general reception-room,to act as an assistant in receiving new convicts sent to Siberia.

  And the following day he was installed there. In the meantime, howeverhis wounds had been dressed by one of the surgeons--a rare condescensionto a prisoner.

  It was a strange place, but there was little to do, save when a newbatch of prisoners arrived; and as he had already gone through with theprisoner part of the business, the place after all did not seem sostrange to him.

  There were altogether about a dozen men belonging to this department,and for the most part they were exiles for life, or long terms, who hadbecome blunted and reconciled-men whose hopes and ambitions were gone,and who only lived because they could not die--men whose time had notyet come.

  The employees in this department seldom spoke to each other. Some ofthem were old men, some actually tottering and evidently longing for thegrave, and when young Barnwell was put among them he was not receivedwith favor, hardly with prison civility.

  "He is a spy," said one.

  "Put here to watch us," said another.

  "But what can he learn? We have no secrets, no desires but to die,"remarked a third.

  "Yet there must be some reason for this young man's being placed here;keep an eye on him," whispered a fourth.

  "Bah!" was the general expression, for they knew there was no occasionto watch them, and if there was they would not be there, but down in thegold mines, hundreds of feet below, where they now suffered with thecold.

  And so it passed into a matter of indifference with them. They regardedthemselves as favored above the general run of exiles, and they wouldnot, dared not, question the appearance of the newcomer.

  As before stated, there was but little to do; in fact. It was littlebetter than a hospital for favored or dying ones, and so they wonderedfor a little while, and then resolved themselves into the same idioticcompany they had become to be.

  Barnwell comprehended the situation, and resolved to fit himself to it,for he was buoyed up with a hope of release which the others might oncehave had, but which they did not have now.

  He tried to speak with them, but not one of them appeared to understandEnglish; and after his first day in this department he began to loseheart, and had it not been for the hope which buoyed him up, he mighthave fallen as low as any of the others there.

  On the third day he was given the position of servant to the surgeon,and as he spoke some English, he found it comparatively easy to getalong with him, although, of course, he had great difficulty in anyposition, on account of his not being able to speak the abominableRussian.

  The hospital for dying or disabled exiles was a most barbarous place,more like a black hole than a hospital, its principal object being, itseemed, to hurry prisoners out of the world, after they had becomeincapacitated by age, sickness, or accident for working in the mines.

  There were hundreds of those miserable wretches there, in all states ofconditions, and dozens a week were carted away, and to whom death was awelcome change.

  Barnwell was horrified by the sights which met his eyes, and the soundswhich racked his ears; but the thought that he would not have to remainthere long gave him strength to bear up and endure the pitiful sights.

  The surgeon took quite a fancy to him, and did all he could to teach himthe Russian language, so that he might be more useful. But not havingthe time to devote, he sent him to an old man by the name of Batavsky,who spoke both English and Russian.

  "He will teach you if he likes you, but if not he will not speak aword," said he.

  "Who and what is he?" asked Barnwell.

  "Peter Batavsky has been here over thirty years--sent here forconspiracy against Czar Nicholas. He has worked in the mines untilwithin the last fifteen months, since which time he has gone mad, andthe governor ordered him here."

  "Taking lessons of a madman!"

  "Well, I am not certain he will give you any at all. He is rationalenough at times to do so if he happens to take to you; if not, he willnot notice you at all."

  "It is a strange situation, but as I am anxious to learn the Russianlanguage, why, I will take almost any chance to do it, and to obligeyou, doctor."

  And with this understanding Barnwell went to the cell of old PeterBatavsky.

  He found him indeed a character, even if he was insane at times.

  He was at least seventy years of age, bent and bowed by hard work andlong imprisonment.

  His thin hair was white, and his skin like old parchment, but his eyeswere bright, and even in his age showed the fires of youth, as well as ahigh-born nature, all of which had not yet been crushed out of him bymisfortune.

  But in youth he must have been a magnificent specimen of physicalmanhood, standing at least six feet in height, and the surgeon had toldhim that he belonged to a wealthy and influential family up to the timeof his apostacy.

  He occupied a narrow cell, in which he secluded himself almostcontinually, holding no
intercourse with his fellow-unfortunates.

  To this cell young Barnwell made his way, armed with the surgeon'srequest, which he at once made known to him.

  The old man looked him all over in the most scrutinizing manner, for hisgreat hallucination was that he was beset with spies who were bound tobring him before the secret tribunal.

  But there was something about the old lunatic which attracted the youngAmerican, and there seemed to be a counter attraction between them.

  CHAPTER VII.

  STRANGE TUTOR OF RUSSIAN.

  "And the surgeon wishes me to teach you the Russian language, does he?"asked old Batavsky, reclining on his miserable couch.

  "Yes, sir, if you will be so good," replied Barnwell, politely.

  "So good!"

  "That is what he said, sir."

  "You are English, eh?"

  "I speak nothing but English, although I am an