ODESSA AND M1SKITCHEE. 53 



knew by certain landmarks that lie must be lying. 

 A moment's consideration showed me that a walk 

 at this hour, even supposing I did not lose my way, 

 would end probably in anight on the steppe, at the 

 mercy of this man or any other who chose to stalk 

 me, and surprise me in the dark or in my sleep, to 

 say nothing of the absolute necessity in case of 

 my leaving the cart of abandoning my game. So 

 I changed my tactics. He had no firearms, and 

 sat on the edge of the cart. I had my gun, and sat 

 behind in the body of it. Mustering what little 

 Russian I knew, I let him understand that 1 held 

 him to his promise ; that I had heard ofM and its 

 evil reputation, and didn't mean to go there ; that 

 I knew the track now on our right was the home 

 track ; and that, if he refused to take it, I would 

 blow him off his cart with a charge of No. 5. This 

 was a rough argument, and he seemed nonplussed. 

 He tried to argue me into going another way ; he 

 tried to laugh me out of my suspicions he even 

 began to bully. I simply watched him, repeated 

 my proposals, and sat still. Meanwhile the horses 

 were pulled up. Then my friend tried to slip off 

 his seat, and so get out of his awkward position in 

 front of my gun's muzzle. I cocked my gun with 

 a click, and brought it in a line with his bark. There 

 was a moment's hesitation, and then with a curse 

 he took the right road at a sulky pace. 



All that drive I never took my eyes off him, 



