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Updated: May 3, 2025
Therefore when one day Godfrey said to him, "When the spring comes, Luka, I mean to try to escape, and I shall take you with me," the Tartar considered it to be a settled thing, and was filled with a deep sense of gratitude that his companion should deem him worthy of sharing in his perils. Winter set in in three weeks after Godfrey reached Kara, and the work at the mine had to be abandoned.
The current was now losing its power, and Godfrey, dipping his hand into the water and then putting it to his lips, found that it was distinctly brackish, and congratulated himself upon having laid in a stock of water when he did. After Luka had slept for six hours, Godfrey roused him. "Now, Luka, you must take my place and steer; move very carefully else we shall capsize her. That is it.
Only once did Godfrey see a head above the bank, and the instant he did so he fired. "That will show them we are keeping a sharp look-out; I don't think they will come near for some little time now. I daresay they are puzzling themselves, first, why we are coming this way, and secondly, why we are keeping so close." "There is the place where we had tent," Luka exclaimed suddenly.
The Ostjaks ordered the women to set about it at once, and leaving the matter in their hands went off to their fishing. Godfrey asked them to take him with them, leaving Luka to see to the repairs of the boat. The fishing implements were of the roughest kind.
After three hours' more work a cover was built over the entrance, and roofed with pine branches so as to prevent the snow from drifting in. "Now, Luka, there is one more job, and unfortunately a long one, but we must do that.
They can't give more than that, and if they were to give less there would be more murders than there are, for every one would think that they could kill at least one person without being punished very heavily for it." "I don't call mine murder at all," Luka said. "I would not kill a man for his money; but this was just a fight. Whiz went his whip across my face, and then whiz went my arrow."
Of course we cannot depend very accurately on our steering, and we may have been going a trifle north of west all this time. But it is all right, for the coast we are making for keeps on trending north, and we are certain to hit it sooner or later." At six o'clock they had a meal which Luka had been cooking, and then Godfrey said, "Now I will have my six hours' sleep."
The three remaining bear's hams were also hung up, and a fire of the pine-wood was then with some difficulty lighted and some of the sweet-smelling shrub laid on it. Godfrey, who had undertaken this part of the business while Luka went back to the boat, crawled out from the tent almost blinded.
There was Melentie, the fighting Archimandrite of the convent of Duzi; Luka Petcovich, a Herzegovinian of the Montenegrin frontier, a tried Turk fighter; and the fighting popes of three villages of Orthodox Christians, Bogdan Simonich, Minje, and Milo.
"A long way from the east," Luka said, pointing in that direction. "Who are you?" "Ostjak," Luka said, knowing that the Samoyedes would have heard of that tribe, but would know nothing of his own. "Who this?" the native asked, pointing to Godfrey. "A friend of Ostjaks," Luka said, "come to hunt and shoot. I come with him." "This Samoyede country," the native said; "not want Ostjaks here."
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