We were now within a verst or so of the Station.Around us all was still,so still,indeed,that it was possible to follow the flight of a gnat by the buzzing of its wings.On our left loomed the gorge,deep and black.Behind it and in front of us rose the dark-blue summits of the mountains,all trenched with furrows and covered with layers of snow,and standing out against the pale horizon,which still retained the last reflec-tions of the evening glow.The stars twinkled out in the dark sky,and in some strange way it seemed to me that they were much higher than in our own north country.On both sides of the road bare,black rocks jutted out;here and there shrubs peeped forth from under the snow;but not a single withered leaf stirred,and amid that dead sleep of nature it was cheering to hear the snorting of the three tired post-horses and the irregular tinkling of the Russian bell.
The bell on the duga,a wooden arch joining the shafts of a Russian conveyance over the horse's neck.
"We will have glorious weather to-morrow,"I said.
The staff-captain answered not a word,but pointed with his finger to a lofty mountain which rose directly opposite us.
"What is it?"I asked.
"Mount Gut."
"Well,what then?"
"Don't you see how it is smoking?"
True enough,smoke was rising from Mount Gut.Over its sides gentle cloud-currents were creeping,and on the summit rested one cloud of such dense blackness that it appeared like a blot upon the dark sky.
By this time we were able to make out the Post Station and the roofs of the huts surrounding it;the welcoming lights were twinkling before us,when suddenly a damp and chilly wind arose,the gorge rumbled,and a drizzling rain fell.I had scarcely time to throw my felt cloak round me when down came the snow.I looked at the staff-captain with profound respect.
"We shall have to pass the night here,"he said,vexation in his tone."There's no crossing the mountains in such a blizzard.--I say,have there been any avalanches on Mount Krestov?"he inquired of the driver.
"No,sir,"the Ossete answered;"but there are a great many threatening to fall --a great many."Owing to the lack of a travellers'room in the Station,we were assigned a night's lodging in a smoky hut.I invited my fellow-traveller to drink a tumbler of tea with me,as I had brought my cast-iron teapot --my only solace during my travels in the Caucasus.
One side of the hut was stuck against the cliff,and three wet and slippery steps led up to the door.I groped my way in and stumbled up against a cow (with these people the cow-house supplies the place of a servant's room).I did not know which way to turn --sheep were bleating on the one hand and a dog growling on the other.
Fortunately,however,I perceived on one side a faint glimmer of light,and by its aid I was able to find another opening by way of a door.And here a by no means uninteresting picture was revealed.The wide hut,the roof of which rested on two smoke-grimed pillars,was full of people.In the centre of the floor a small fire was crackling,and the smoke,driven back by the wind from an opening in the roof,was spreading around in so thick a shroud that for a long time Iwas unable to see about me.Seated by the fire were two old women,a number of children and a lank Georgian --all of them in tatters.There was no help for it!We took refuge by the fire and lighted our pipes;and soon the teapot was singing invitingly.
"Wretched people,these!"I said to the staff-captain,indicating our dirty hosts,who were silently gazing at us in a kind of torpor.
"And an utterly stupid people too!"he replied."Would you believe it,they are absolutely ignorant and incapable of the slightest civilisation!Why even our Kabardians or Chechenes,robbers and ragamuffins though they be,are regular dare-devils for all that.Whereas these others have no liking for arms,and you'll never see a decent dagger on one of them!
Ossetes all over!"
"You have been a long time in the Chechenes'country?"
"Yes,I was quartered there for about ten years along with my company in a fortress,near Kamennyi Brod.Do you know the place?"Rocky Ford.
"I have heard the name."
"I can tell you,my boy,we had quite enough of those dare-devil Chechenes.At the present time,thank goodness,things are quieter;but in the old days you had only to put a hundred paces between you and the rampart and wherever you went you would be sure to find a shaggy devil lurking in wait for you.You had just to let your thoughts wander and at any moment a lasso would be round your neck or a bullet in the back of your head!Brave fellows,though!"...
"You used to have many an adventure,Idare say?"I said,spurred by curiosity.
"Of course!Many a one."...
Hereupon he began to tug at his left moustache,let his head sink on to his breast,and became lost in thought.I had a very great mind to extract some little anecdote out of him --a desire natural to all who travel and make notes.
Meanwhile,tea was ready.I took two travel-ling-tumblers out of my portmanteau,and,filling one of them,set it before the staff-captain.
He sipped his tea and said,as if speaking to himself,"Yes,many a one!"This exclamation gave me great hopes.Your old Caucasian officer loves,I know,to talk and yarn a bit;he so rarely succeeds in getting a chance to do so.It may be his fate to be quartered five years or so with his company in some out-of-the-way place,and during the whole of that time he will not hear "good morning"from a soul (because the sergeant says "good health").And,indeed,he would have good cause to wax loquacious --with a wild and interesting people all around him,danger to be faced every day,and many a marvellous incident happening.It is in circum-stances like this that we involuntarily complain that so few of our countrymen take notes.
"Would you care to put some rum in your tea?"I said to my companion."I have some white rum with me --from Tiflis;and the weather is cold now.""No,thank you,sir;I don't drink."
"Really?"
