"
"Speak to your men once more, sir, and promise them big purses of gold
when we reach Ganlook. I have no money or valuables with me; but there I
can obtain plenty," said Beverly, shrewdly thinking it better that they
should believe her to be without funds.
The cavalcade had halted during this colloquy. All the men were ahead
conversing sullenly and excitedly with much gesticulation. The driver, a
stolid creature, seemingly indifferent to all that was going on, alone
remained at his post. The situation, apparently dangerous, was certainly
most annoying. But if Beverly could have read the mind of that silent
figure on the box, she would have felt slightly relieved, for he was
infinitely more anxious to proceed than even she; but from far different
reasons. He was a Russian convict, who had escaped on the way to
Siberia. Disguised as a coachman he was seeking life and safety in
Graustark, or any out-of-the-way place. It mattered little to him where
the escort concluded to go. He was going ahead. He dared not go back--he
must go on.
At the end of half an hour, the officer returned; all hope had gone from
his face. "It is useless!" he cried out. "The guides refuse to
proceed. See! They are going off with their countrymen! We are lost
without them. I do not know what to do. We cannot get to Ganlook; I do
not know the way, and the danger is great.
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