from the opposite bank, made their way across
the ice, and where the open current at our
feet prevented them from getting to us, they
stopped and began jabbering, ordering, and
crying, without any sign of an idea as to what
should be done. But my handy friend Harry,
taking an axe from the tarantass, made for the
nearest wood, and began cutting down trees.
Two of them we managed to drag to the river,
and throw, with one end across to the solid ice,
the other resting on the bank. The baron's
men then came to land, and a bridge was soon
made by them, under Harry's direction. Then
the question was, who would venture cattle and
conveyance first across the slender extemporised
path. The Russians all positively refused to
stir, so the Englishmen made the first passage,
and succeeded in getting safely to the ice; thence
we crawled very cautiously to the other side,
and so got safely to land with all our traps. Not
so some of the Russians.

It may easily be supposed that Harry's
bridge was not as strong and durable as
London-bridge, and he knew this, for he said
to me, after we were fairly over, "Some of
yon Rooshians had better mind their eyes with
that bridge. Fifteen tarantasses and forty-
five horses'll try its mettle." And presently,
indeed, the bridge did give way in the centre,
leaving a few of the main trees at intervals,
and with it down went a tarantass into deep
water, dragging its three horses after it. The
poor brutes struggled hard, but being tied with
strong ropes to the vehicle, they fought in vain;
down they were drawn farther and farther
below the ice. The Russians looked on and
crossed themselves. The driver of the struggling
horses had sunk with them, and was entangled
in the harness, a rope being twisted about one
of his legs. He was making desperate efforts to
free himself, and had got hold of one of the
cross-trees forming part of the bridge, but the
struggling of the sinking horses soon pulled him
off. At this moment Harry slid along the tree,
holding by his powerful arms, and with his body
in the river. I saw a knife in his teeth, and in
less time than I can tell, he swung himself round,
holding on by one arm, and bending forward so
that his face touched the water. Then drawing
the knife from his teeth he severed the rope that
bound the unlucky driver. The lad's strength
was exhausted. He lost his hold on the tree
and sunk; but as he rose the second time,
perfectly helpless, Harry seized his long hair, and
having dragged him by main strength out of the
water, laid him across the tree, and gradually
slid himself and his helpless burden to the bank.

I shouted to him to leave the man's recovery
to the care of his countrymen, and come over
instantly for brandy and dry clothes. He came
across the same tree like a cat, and ran to the
other side. Brandy was applied liberally, both
inside and out, clothes were dragged from the
trunk to replace the wet and frozen ones. The
chafing, rubbing, undressing, dressing, and
running about to keep up the circulation, consumed
some time, during which the broken bridge had
been repaired. All the quadrupeds, bipeds,
wheeled conveyances, and their freights, had been
safely got across, except the one we saw go
down with its three horses, and the poor young
driver. "Where is he," I asked a traveller.

"Oh," said he, with the shrug indifferent, "he
lies yonder, where your friend left him. I think
he's dead."

"Good God!" I cried, "among so many of
you has nothing been done to bring back life!
Did you suffer him to lie freezing to death?"

"Why, you see, he does not belong to any
one here; besides, he might have been dead when
he was brought out of the water, and if so we
dare not touch him till the 'stanovog' comes."

"And when will the stanovog come?"

"God knows," he said (with the shrug doubtful);
"to-morrow, or next day, or perhaps
longer. The man is only a serf. God did it.
What's to be done? Let him lie."

"What! God did it. Did not God help my
friend to place him on the bank that you might
save him. And you have let him perish for
want of a little aid. Come Harry, you and I
will see what we can do for him, if there be any
life left. Bring the brandy and give me those
rugs."

"Listen," said the same traveller in broken
English, and speaking low, that none of the rest
might hear. "I like the English, and I tell you,
to let him go dead, you are getting much trouble
if you touch him more. The baron will make
you pay much money. Get gone directly. That
is my advice, take it."

"Your advice be——" cried Harry. The
Russian gave the shrug conclusive, and left us
to our fate.

When we got across the river again we found
the poor fellow lying just where, and as, Harry
had laid him down. All perceptible life was gone,
and he was fast stiffening into a frozen lump.
We did all that we could, but rubbing, pouring,
chafing with brandy, were without effect,
no one assisted us, no one even looked in our
direction. Harry had no doubt that he was
alive when he had left him, and might then
easily have been recovered, but all efforts were
now in vain. An hour had elapsed, and, forced
to conclude that he was past saving, we
reluctantly left him, and returned to our anxious and
weary women and children.

All was soon ready for a start up the alps.
The other travellers had settled accounts with
the baron (for three roubles each conveyance;
my son, who had seen them paying, told me),
and they were struggling up the precipitous
banks, assisted by the serfs with ropes and
poles. It seemed a desperate undertaking, for
the formidable precipices we had to encounter,
rose shaft after shaft in a zigzag manner, and the
slippery pathway was only about ten feet broad,
with no ledges or parapets to save a vehicle
from tumbling over, should the horses slip or run
back; and the cattle were cold and tired, the
roads were a mass of slippery ice. However,
we determined to go with the rest. The women
and children began the ascent on foot, and we