"H—m," muttered Eristoff. "They accuse us of having organized an attempt upon a cashier in Harbin."
"Against the one who was carrying a bag of money down to the river with a soldier as a guard and who was killed, and the bag thrown across a hedge, where it disappeared without a trace?" I hazarded.
"Yes. You also know about this?"
"I saw the whole thing with my own eyes. I even remember the figure of the man who attacked the pair," I replied, as I began to cast my eye over the tall, graceful form of Eristoff. He smiled, lowered his eyes and said:
"Strange things occur in this world."
In spite of what had passed between us near the Sungari and of the part which Eristoff had played in the bank-cashier affair, I struck up a close friendship with these children of the Caucasus, who had in their natures all the strength and freshness of the mountains, the warmth of constant sunshine and untrammelled boldness—the characteristics of outdoor, liberty-loving men. They did not compliment me by remaining long to cultivate and enjoy my society, for they flew away and in a manner that merits being told.
Late one night a new prisoner was brought into the room where the Georgians had been placed with some of the Ivans, who had been spending half their lives in transfers from one prison to another. The new-comer was about twenty-five years old, and possessed a tall, lithe figure that indicated great strength, but he was silent and gave the impression of being very shy. The inmates of the room accorded him a far from amiable reception.
"A pike (a man put in prison for the first time)!" they murmured. "They put him among us real prisoners?"
