CHAPTER X.

THE MEETING IN THE HUT—SAFE AT HOME.

"SO, then," continued Stepan, "having driven this way before on business for the factory, I remembered thy father's hut, Sonia, and thought I would call here, on the chance of finding thee, and also to ask if thou knowest anything of the two little gentlemen who started from a hut ten miles or more from here on the homeward journey. I am terribly anxious about them, for on the way here to-day I came upon the remains of a man who had been devoured by wolves. Fresh snow had fallen, so that very little remained uncovered, but it made me feel doubly uneasy. I did not know that wolves came here to these parts in any numbers; but it must be the early and severe winter that has brought them."

"Since thou art so anxious, brother, come and look here," said Sonia, and she pointed to the farthest corner of the room, where, on a bed of straw, lay Sharik the pony, and Alf and Bert with their heads pillowed on his back—all fast asleep.

"Now God be praised for all His mercies!" exclaimed Stepan, taking off his cap and crossing himself. "This is joy indeed!"

By this time, the sound of the eager voices had penetrated even into dreamland, and the boys sat up, rubbing their eyes.

"I was dreaming," said Bert, still more than half-asleep, "of Stepan."

"So was I," rejoined Alf, and then, looking up, he exclaimed, "And here he is!"

Then both lads, crying and laughing at once, threw their arms round the man's neck, and tears of gladness and thankfulness ran down his cheeks as he held them in a close embrace.

Sonia now set to work to prepare tea for the travellers, and the horse, harnessed to the sledge, was warmly covered over, and made quite happy with a full nose-bag, while Sharik was fed and petted to his heart's content. Half an hour later, Stepan and the boys were on their way homeward in the sledge, the pony trotting merrily behind, and neighing for joy, every now and then, to his friend in the shafts.

It was quite dark when the sledge stopped inside the great yard at the house door. Work in the factory seemed to be in full swing, fires everywhere, and the electric light streaming forth.

"Drive round to the stable-yard, Stepan," said Alf, "while we go in and see if we can find anybody."

So saying, the boys passed through the big swing doors into the warm hall. The office doors on either side of the hall were locked, for it was Saturday, and the clerks had gone home.

"No one here," said Alf; "let's go up and try and find mother."

Upstairs they went, and paused on the first landing by the open door of their parents' room. As they did so, they heard nurse's voice, and stayed to listen.

"Dear Barina," she said, "no wonder this suspense is making you ill, but, I beg you, do not despair. I seem to feel it here in my heart that our dear children are safe, and that our prayers will be answered."

"Thy master is away searching for them himself, Niania," said the sad, feeble voice of Mrs. Oliver, "but so far he—"

At that moment, the boys stepped from behind the screen that was round the door, and mother and children were re-united.

And now, what remains to tell can be told in a few words: Mr. Oliver came home late that night, only to find his sons safely there before him.

How Stepan's repentance, and his kindness to the children, led to his being restored to his place in the factory; how, after a while, Pamphil too returned, having become steady and reliable; how Anton Griboff, owing to the injury to his head, went mad and died in a lunatic asylum—all this needs no further telling. Enough that trials and dangers through which Alf and Bert Oliver had passed had deepened their characters and strengthened their faith in God.

And later on, even when they were sent to school in England, they never forgot their Russian adventures, or that they had once been, in deed and in truth, in peril in Tsarland.

THE END.

THE WRONG TWIN

[Illustration]