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Updated: May 13, 2025
But Russia and all that old Portnoff talks about is far away and seems like a dream of a year ago. It is old Portnoff who taught me how to write in Russian. "I like this place, and oh! I like Jack, that is, Mr. French, my master. He told me to call him Jack.
French dropped quickly on his knee, took him by the hand and said, "I will be to him a brother." The old man turned his face and said, "Paulina." "She is here," said old Portnoff, "but she can't move." At the sound of his voice, the woman struggled up to her knees, crawled over to his side, the blood flowing from her wound, and taking his hand, held it to her lips.
The hounds, the horses, the cattle call in English, the very wind sounds English, and I am beginning not only to speak, but to think and feel in English, except when I think of you and of our dear mother and father, and when I speak with old Portnoff, an old Russian nihilist, in the colony near here, and when I hear him tell of the bad old days, then I feel and breathe Russian again.
"Bring him some water, some one," said Brown, who was now giving his attention to Kalman. But no one heeded him. Old Portnoff found a can, and filling it at the stream, brought it to the group on the slope. In a short time they began to revive, and before long were able to stand. Meantime, the wretched Rosenblatt was piteously crying for water.
Do you know what suffering is? But yes, Portnoff, we must be patient yet." As he spoke he took on a dignity of manner and assumed an attitude of authority that Portnoff was quick to recognize. "You speak truly," replied the latter gravely. "I heard a good thing to-day," he continued with a change of tone. "It seems that Sprink " "Sprink!" muttered Malkarski with infinite contempt, "a rat, a pig!
"What, in Heaven's name, is it, Brown?" cried French. "Come away!" gasped Brown, stumbling down the ravine and dragging them with him. Meantime, the whole hillside was in flames. In the clear light of the blazing trees the Sergeant was seen riding his splendid horse at a hard gallop. Soon after his appearing came Portnoff.
It was through Portnoff he obtained an accurate description of the mine property. But that same night Portnoff and Malkarski were found at Brown's house. "There is a man," said Portnoff, "who wishes to know about the mine. Perhaps he desires to purchase." "His name?" enquired Brown. "Rosenblatt." "Rosenblatt? That name has a familiar sound.
I shall go back to the mine to warn them if by any chance you should miss them." Old Portnoff was long past his best. Not for many years had he quickened his pace beyond a slow dog trot.
His own wrongs cried out for vengeance, and against these cries there stood that single word, "Father, forgive them, they know not what they do." Before a week was gone old Portnoff came hot foot to Brown to report that early that morning Rosenblatt had ridden off in the direction of the Fort, where was the Government Land Office. "It is something about the mine. He was in good spirits.
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