Knight Without Armour

He was fortunate in finding one quite soon. A steep valley ended in a lame and desolate tract of undergrowth amidst whose tangle there seemed a good chance of escaping notice. Even if pursuers ever reached it, they would not be likely to give every thicket the attention it deserved. He plunged eagerly into the bushes and for ten minutes, out of sight of the world around them, they both wriggled further and deeper into the dense undergrowth. At last the seemingly perfect spot revealed itself—a little hollow hidden behind thick brambles and knee-deep in litter of twigs and leaves. “Here,” he cried, with sudden satisfaction. He stared thankfully about him at the protecting foliage, and then upwards at the blue sky just visible through the lacery of branches. Then he heard once again, but a little nearer, that shrill whistle and its answer.

He laid her gently on the ground and yet again she fell asleep instantly—so instantly that he smiled a rather rueful smile, for he had intended to give her some cautionary advice. No matter; it could probably wait. He would not think of wakening her. And then as the moments passed and he watched her sleeping, a feeling of tenderness came over him, like a slow warmth from another world, and he did something he had never done before in all his life—he put his arm round a woman and drew her gently towards him. She would sleep more comfortably so. He gazed on her with quiet, almost proprietary triumph; all the way from Khalinsk he had not ceased to guard her, through all manner of difficulty and peril, and here she was still, by miracle, under his protection. He was hungry and thirsty and tired and anxious, yet also, in a way he had never known before, he was satisfied.

The thicket was noisy with buzzing insects, but every few moments over the distant air came the whistling—now quite distinctly nearer. His heart beat no faster for it; he felt: We are here, and here is our only chance; we must wait and take whatever comes…The nearest of the pursuers, he judged, must be perhaps half a mile away; there were others, too, not far behind, and probably hundreds already combing the forests on the way from Saratursk. Soon the whistling became less intermittent and seemed to come from north and south as well as west; once, too, he thought he heard voices a long way off. Hunger and thirst were now beginning to be importunate, but he dared not satisfy them, since it might be night before he could risk leaving the thicket in quest of any fresh supplies.

Then he saw that her eyes were wide open—dark, sleepy eyes staring up at him. She whispered, half smiling: “How uncomfortable you must be—with me leaning on you like this!”

“All the better,” he answered, with a wry smile. “It helps me to keep awake.”

“I think it is your turn to sleep now.”

“No, no—you go on sleeping.”

“But I can’t.” Her voice dropped agonisingly. “I’ve kept my nerve pretty well up to now, but I’m afraid—I’m beginning to be just—terrified.”

“Terrified? Oh, no need for that.”

“Those whistles that keep on sounding—we’re being hunted—that’s what they mean, don’t they?”

“They’re looking for us, of course. That was to be expected. But it doesn’t follow that they’re going to find us.”

“Promise me—promise me one thing—that you’ll kill me rather than let them get me again!”

“Yes, I promise.”

“You mean it?”

“Absolutely.”

A whistle suddenly shrilled quite close to them—perhaps two or three hundred yards away, on the edge of the undergrowth. Even he was startled, and he felt her trembling silently against him. He whispered: “Keep calm—they’re a long way off yet—they might easily come within ten yards and not see us in a place like this. Don’t worry.”

All she could muster, amidst her fear was: “You have your revolver? You remember?”

“Yes, of course.”

His arm tightened upon leer; he whispered: “Poor child, don’t give up hope.” Then they both waited in silence. It seemed an age until the next whistle—an answering one that appeared to come from about the same distance on the other side. What was happening was not very clear; perhaps the two searchers were passing along the edges of the undergrowth and did not intend to make any detailed search amongst it. He could imagine their condition—tired, hot, thirsty, and probably bad-tempered after the so far fruitless search. The prickly brambles would hardly tempt them. On the other hand, there was the big reward that had most likely been offered—men would do most things for a few hundred roubles.