CHAPTER IV.

AN UNEXPECTED FRIEND.

STEPAN took from off a rude shelf along the wall a great round black loaf, a plate of yellow salt butter, and some tin mugs big enough to hold a pint each. He out several slices of bread and butter, laying them down on a wooden platter. Then he poured out the tea and pulled a bench up to the rude table in the middle of the room.

The boys gladly took their seats, for they were chilled and hungry; and Bert was about to sip his tea when Alf touched his hand.

"Don't let's forget our grace," said he, and bending his head and closing his eyes he said in a soft whisper: "We thank Thee, Lord, for this food; take care of us, and of those we love, for Jesus' sake. Amen."

The boys were seated together at one end of the table, while Red-scar (who had now returned) and Stepan sat facing them; and Alf, glancing up, now and again, from the food before him, could not but note the contrast between these two men, whom he now rightly regarded as his jailers. And he turned with a certain sense of relief from the brutal aspect of Gavril to the brown-eyed, clear-skinned, black-bearded Stepan.

This man had been—as Alf knew from his father—a superior workman in the fitters' department, receiving high wages and occupying a good position. And Alf wondered to see him throw in his lot with a brute like Gavril, and against such a master as Mr. Oliver had always been.

Just before the meal was ended Red-scar left the hut to get snow for water, and Alf found courage to speak to Stepan of what lay like a burden upon his heart.

"Look here, Stepan," he said, "I can speak to thee, for thou art not as the other. Tell us what has become of our parents and old Niania? Knowest thou?"

"On my honour, young sir, I know not," replied Stepan. "When Gavril and I bore Anton away unconscious to his own house, we left the master bound securely, but unhurt, lying on the sofa in the office. When we returned in half an hour's time, he was gone. As for the key of the safe, Anton found it, held it up for us to see, then suddenly fell, and from that moment the key vanished. The lady and the nurse had also disappeared before we went upstairs, though how or where I know no more than you. I only am sure that it was before the rougher among the workmen came swarming, as drunk as they could be, and turned everything upside down."

"And what had my poor father done—tell me that, Stepan," said Alf, "that you men should rise against him thus? What, for example, had he done against thee?"

"Ah, young sir, you are scarce more than a child; how can you understand? My grievance was nothing that the other men knew of or shared in. But because they mutinied, I went with them—but for reasons of my own."

"Tell us, Stepan, what was thy grievance?" asked Alf, and Bert echoed his brother's words.

"Did you ever see my young brother, Pamphil?" questioned Stepan.

"Was he working in the zavot about a year ago?"

"He was," replied Stepan, "but he got into bad company, and was found one night by the master dead drunk on the floor of the Refinery Room, with a half-smoked pipe beside him."

"I suppose," said Alf, "that his duty was to keep watch there, and above all to see that no risk was run of fire, which was the great danger always. Also I have heard my father say that smoking is strictly forbidden all over the factory."

"It is so," rejoined Stepan, "and Pamphil was much to blame; nevertheless, he was very young, and had been led away by others more vicious, though wiser, than he; but the master dismissed him at once. I pleaded for him and he listened, but it was all in vain. Pamphil was discharged. And then, in despair, he went from bad to worse, and now he lies in prison for murderous assault and perhaps he may lose his life. And knowing this, how can I forget that all this misery might have been prevented had the master kept the poor lad in his employ, or at least given him another chance!"

"But suppose," suggested Alf, "that some terrible accident had happened through Pamphil being drunk or heedless; and suppose life and property were lost on his account! Would not my father be blamed—and justly—for keeping a man in his employ who was not to be trusted? Oh, Stepan, this grudge of thine is an unjust and unworthy one."

"Our father was good to thee when thou wert ill of the fever," put in Bert. "He went to see thee every day, and mother sent food from our own table to strengthen thee. Hast thou forgotten?"

Stepan did not reply; it was all too true, though he did not like to confess it.

But just then, Gavril came back with two great buckets of snow, which he emptied into a huge kettle and set on the stove to boil, after which he went out again for firewood.

"And now, young gentlemen," said Stepan, "if you will take my advice, you will lie down on the bed in that warm corner, and get a few hours' sleep. You must need it."

"Look here, Stepan," said Alf; "a straight word with thee! We dare not sleep—my brother and I—if we be left alone with Red-scar, for he hates us and might do us an injury. Promise that if we sleep, thou wilt not leave us."

The man's brown eyes softened as he looked at the little lads, who, in spite of all he had done, trusted him still.

"You may sleep in peace, my children; no harm shall come to you," he said gently.

And as they went and lay down, he took from a nail in the wall his big sheepskin coat, and carefully covered them. In a few minutes, he could tell by their regular breathing that they were asleep.

"Ah!" said Gavril, who now returned with the firewood. "So thou hast put the brats to bed. I would dearly love to choke the impudence out of that older boy!"

And the cruel grin widened like a beast's at sight of prey, and the cat-like eyes narrowed till they were only two gleaming slits. He stepped across to the low bed and, stooping, pulled the collar of the sheepskin shoob away from Alf's face and throat. Stepan was watching him closely, distrust and dislike written large in his frowning brow and set lips.

"Hands off, Gavril!" he said sternly. "I promised the children that they should sleep secure, and they shall! Come away from them!"

"Thou soft-hearted old coddle!" sneered Red-scar, replacing the fur, and taking his seat by the stove. "But now to business! How long are we to keep these imps in hiding?"

"How can I tell? Thy purpose was to hold them to ransom; but, pray, who is there to ransom them? The parents and nurse have disappeared; thou dost not know of any reward offered. Much more likely is it that the police will track us down, and give us a taste of Siberia for our pains. Poor little fellows! They have come to trouble before their time, and through no fault of their own."

"Nay, then, if thou art so soft-hearted," said Gavril mockingly, "it is a pity thou art not on the manager's side rather than ours."

"Well, yes," replied Stepan coolly; "if 'our side' means to be with thee, it would certainly be more to my credit if I went back to serve under my old master."

"Thou double-faced traitor!" exclaimed Gavril with a threatening gesture.

"I was a fool," said Stepan, "to let my own private grievance drive me to join the rest of you—such a black gang, too, and thou, Gavril, blackest of all!"

"Another word, and I brain thee with this axe!" cried Red-scar.