CHAPTER XVII.
INTO SIBERIA.
If there is one country in the world where the wheel of modern progresshas failed to turn, that country is Siberia. True, there is a railroad,or perhaps several railroads, that traverse and extend into the broadexpanse of uninhabited country; but they are few and far between. Exceptin times of war, such as these, they are not much traveled.
The road to Siberia, in Jack's case, lay through Petrograd itself.There, with perhaps fifty other prisoners securely bound, he was throwninto an open freight car, bound eastward.
Muffled in his great coat, as he was, and with his heavy fur cap pulledwell down over his ears, the lad was nevertheless very cold; still hewas not in such imminent danger of freezing as were some of hisfellow-prisoners, who, not garbed so warmly when they were arrested,shivered terribly in the frigid atmosphere.
In spite of his warm garments Jack's teeth chattered. Try as he would hecould not stop them; and when the train moved off, slowly at first, andthen faster and faster, it seemed that he could bear it no longer. Hishands and feet grew numb, he felt his eyes closing and then he knew nomore. Unconsciousness had come to his relief.
When Jack again opened his eyes it was because he felt some one kickingthe soles of his feet. He tried to move them, but the effort was vain.He could barely feel the shock of the other's blows, but he realizedthat he was expected to get up and he knew that it would be best toobey, if possible.
Slowly the blood began to circulate through his legs and feet. Theypained him sharply at first, but gradually the pain subsided and at lastthe lad, his hands still bound, struggled to his feet.
He took in his situation at a glance. The train had come to a stop, andJack let his eyes rove to the north, to the east and to the south andwest. Ahead was another freight car and behind another; but from thesides all the lad could see was a broad expanse of snow, stretching farinto the distance. There was not a sign of a human habitation, althoughthe lad knew that ahead probably was a railroad station, or a shed thatmarked a junction, or something.
Russian guards, big heavily bearded men, forced their way through thestruggling heaps of humanity in the car, stirring the half-frozen menwith the toes of their heavy boots. Some kicks brought groans, otherscurses; but, in spite of this, the men at last managed to get slowly totheir feet.
Jack gazed at them curiously, forgetting for a moment his own desperateplight. The majority were men of middle age. Some were older and somefew younger.
A groan at his feet attracted Jack's attention. There he saw a youngboy--he could not have been more than fifteen--lying upon the floor ofthe car. The lad was small and delicate, half frozen, and it appearedthat he could not drag himself to his feet.
But the big guard who stood over him paid no attention to the lad'spleadings to be let alone. Twice he stirred the prostrate form with thetoe of his boot as Jack looked on; then, drawing back his foot, hekicked the boy heavily in the side.
The lad gave a subdued cry and rolled away. The guard moved after himand would have repeated the kick, had Jack not taken a sudden stepforward, and in spite of the cords that bound his hands, placed himselfbefore the burly guard and his victim.
"Shame on you!" cried Jack.
Jack spoke in English. Evidently the Russian, while not understandingthe lad's words, guessed their import. For a brief moment he hesitated;then, drawing back his huge fist, he struck Jack a heavy blow on theright cheek.
Jack staggered, but did not fall. He stood his ground, still facing thebig Russian, but there was a dark scowl on the lad's face. Again theRussian stepped forward and raised a hand.
But before the blow could fall, Jack stooped a trifle, and thrusting hishead in front of him, charged. The Russian was unable to leap back intime to avoid Jack, and the lad's head struck him squarely in the pit ofthe stomach. The guard doubled up and fell to the bottom of the car,gasping for air.
There was a murmur of approval from the other prisoners in the car; butthis was soon silenced, for half a dozen other guards, wielding revolverbutts and long whips, sprang in among them, and laid about lustily. Theprisoners could not fight, for their hands were bound, and there wasnothing for them to do but to stand and receive the blows stolidly. Butthere was anger in their eyes and Jack knew that it would go hard withone of the guards should a prisoner get a hold upon him.
For himself, he bore up bravely under the biting lashes of the whip thatcurled about his face and legs, leaving great red welts. Eight, nine,ten times, a whip wrapped around him; then, apparently thinking the ladhad had enough, the guard who had attacked him desisted.
Jack, braced for still another blow, staggered forward as the man drewback, and evidently believing that the lad was about to attack him, theRussian quickly drew a revolver, reversed the butt and struck Jack overthe head. It was a hard blow and the lad fell forward on his face. Once,twice, he tried to regain his feet. Then a wall of blackness descendedupon him again and he knew nothing more, while the Russian turned hisattention to the other prisoners.
When Jack returned to consciousness the first thing to call itself tohis attention was the warmth. His last remembrance was of cold. He triedto think, but for the space of several moments he could not piecetogether the tangled chain of events that revolved and revolved in hismind.
At length, however, as he took additional note of the pleasing warmthand realized that his feet were no longer numb; that his ears were notfrozen and that he could breathe without the sensation of snuffing ice.He was able, piece by piece, to recall what had transpired.
"By Jove!" he said at last. "By rights, I should be lying in an open carand freezing while some great brute of a Russian stood over me with awhip. Wonder where on earth I am?"
He raised himself on one elbow and looked around, but he could seenothing. The place in which he found himself was pitch dark. The ladthought he could now catch the sound of other voices, and he called out:
"Anybody here?"
The lad spoke in English and there was no reply. He asked the samequestion again, this time in French, and still there was no answer. Athird time he tried it, this time speaking in German. He drew an answerat last.
"Yes; Boris Duttsky. Who are you?"
Jack introduced himself in German and in the darkness, and then added;
"Where are we?"
"Siberia," was the brief response.
"I know that," said Jack. "But where are we right now? And what makes itso awfully dark in here?"
"We are in a dungeon," was the reply. "I recognize a dungeon by thefeeling, because I have been in a dungeon before. I believe I know whoyou are. You are the English prisoner, are you not?"
"Yes," replied Jack.
"I thought so. I spotted you in the freight car when you knocked theguard down. That's why you're here."
"And are we the only two in this place?"
"I guess so. I have heard no other voices."
"And you say I am here because I knocked the guard down?"
"Yes; they consider you a bad customer."
"And why are you here?"
"For the same reason. I followed your example in the car and butted aguard under the chin. I wish I hadn't now. It's a bad business."
"Why? All they have done is lock us up where it is dark."
"Wait; in the morning they'll take us out and give us the lash."
"The lash?"
"Yes; probably lay a dozen strokes across our bare backs with their bigwhips. After that they'll give us bread to eat and water to drink; andthat's probably all we'll get for a week."
Jack shuddered. Then he straightened himself up in the darkness.
"They had better not lay a whip on me," he said quietly.
The Russian laughed aloud.
"Why? What will you do?" he asked.
"I'll fight. I'll rush the man who strikes me, whether I'm bound ornot."
"That would be foolish. The punishment would only be redoubled. No
; takemy advice, and grin and bear it."
"I don't know but what you're right," said Jack after someconsideration. "I'll take your advice, then, in part. I'll bear it, butI won't promise to grin."
"Now that's the way I like to hear a man talk," declared the Russian."You are a man after my own heart. It will hurt, of course, but it won'tkill. Although," he added as an afterthought, "I don't know but it wouldbe well to kill a man at once, rather than to kill him by inches as theydo here in Siberia."
"You talk as though you knew something about it," said Jack.
"I do. I had a brother who was once imprisoned in Siberia, through amistake. He was later released by the personal order of the Czar; but inthe time he was here he endured much. He has told me many tales of thecruelties of the guards and their officers."
"Well, all we can do is hope that we shall have a chance to escape,"said Jack.
"No chance of that--without outside help," declared the Russian."Besides, if you were able to get away, where would you go? You aremiles from a railroad and you would perish of cold or of hunger beforeyou got far."
"The railroad can't be so very far," Jack protested. "It was only a fewhours ago that we were in a freight car."
"A few hours," ejaculated the Russian. "It has been all of twenty-four."
"Twenty-four," exclaimed Jack. "Do you mean I have been unconscious allthat time?"
"You must have been. And it was a blessing that you were. You savedyourself a hard walk through the snow. You were carried on a sleighwhile the rest of us were forced to walk."
"Then there is no escape?"
"A man escaped once," returned the Russian grimly. "There was nopursuit, for there was no place he could go without food, as he hadgone. He was found a month later in the snow. There wasn't much left ofhim."
Jack shuddered.
"Not for me," he said aloud.
"No," continued the Russian, "there is no chance of escape; and for thatreason the prisoners are not even bound. No, without outside help, noman ever escapes from Siberia."
"Then," said Jack quietly, "we must have outside help."