Our Little Cossack Cousin in Siberia

"What! An officer! Is it possible?"

"Yes, – and I am not," said my father with a certain bitterness in his voice. "Yet I had a better chance in some ways than he." Here his voice sank lower. "Now, our Vanka isn't stupid, and if we give him an education I don't see why he shouldn't become an officer. Too bad that that fellow Gabrilov, whom we had here as a teacher last spring, turned out to be such a drunkard. We really had to get rid of him."

Mother interrupted him. "Judging by Gabrilov, education isn't such a splendid thing. Boys brought up in town learn all sorts of wicked things. I'd rather keep Vanka here. He can learn to be as good a Cossack in our village as anywhere else. Mongalov may dress better than you, but he isn't respected a bit more. After Katia is married I don't see how I can get along without Vanka."

Here I fell asleep with the pleasant knowledge that, after all, I was not simply a nuisance but meant something to my parents.

The next morning father went about his work as usual, feeding the horses and cattle, and bringing wood and cutting it. In the meantime mother brought water from the well in the middle of the yard, and I pumped water into a big trough to which I led the horses.

When this had been done, father caught two of the horses, gave them some grain and tied them to a post.

Seeing my look of inquiry, he smilingly repeated a favorite proverb, "Don't try to learn too much or your hair will turn gray."

As we went in to breakfast his lips moved as if he were talking to himself, a habit he had formed whenever he had a great deal on his mind. Mother watched him with a troubled air, and at last asked: "What's the matter, Alexis?"

Without replying to her question, he said, "I have to go to Habarovsk to-day, and I'll take Vanyuska with me. I've been promising him the ride for a long time."

I jumped up, waved my arms, and with my mouth full of bread, shouted: "Hurrah!"

My mother stopped me. "Sit down, you foolish boy. You can't go. I need you."

But, after a long argument, mother agreed to my going. Then father and I cleaned the horses and tied their tails up as high as possible, for at this time of the year the roads were very muddy. I placed a light saddle on the horse I was to ride, and father's military saddle with its high trees on the other horse. As father put some sacks with forage behind these, Katia came out with something that mother was sending Dimitri. I was very glad to see this, for it meant that we were going to visit the Cossack barracks.

Half an hour later we had left home and were making our way through the deep mud. It was a beautiful Spring morning. The air was fresh and clear, and, despite the heavy road, the horses were full of spirit and went on with a light and springy gait.

At a turn of the road I suddenly saw two rabbits sitting about a hundred feet from us. Pointing to them, I called to my father to look. Here my horse jumped to one side and I was all but thrown from the saddle.

My father was quite angry. He turned to me exclaiming roughly: "What's the matter with you? A Cossack should always watch his horse. He must never be taken by surprise even should the horse leap a fence. You almost fell like a sack."

Since that lesson I have never failed in watchfulness, never "fallen asleep," as the Cossacks say, even when trying to ride a mule or an ox.

We did not meet many travelers. Once a company of dusky, flat-featured natives of the Lake Baikal region, passed us, splendidly mounted on their horses. Their large, squat bodies gave them a somewhat forbidding air, but I knew how peaceful and harmless they really are. The Russians call them Bratskie (brotherly people). One was dressed in a long, purplish blue cloak, lined with fur, and had on a curious blue cone-shaped hat. The others were evidently Cossacks, for they had on the distinguishing uniform. They may have been on their way to some Buddhist shrine, for the Russian Government, severe with its own people, allows those born into other religions to worship as they please. "God gave us our religion. He gave them theirs," expresses the attitude taken.

It was just here that we were overtaken by a man mounted like ourselves on a shaggy Siberian pony. When he had come up, both he and my father gave expression to surprised greetings. He proved to be an old-time acquaintance. There was no end of questions and answers for he rode with us as far as our destination. He had just come from the city of Vladivostok,[14 - Now connected by the longest railroad in the world with Petrograd (St. Petersburg), Russia.] the great growing seaport of Siberia. As he gave a glowing description of the place, I was reminded of the meaning of the name Vladi-vostok – possessor of the East.

"We may build a great trade with the United States through Vladivostok," he remarked among other things. "It has a splendid, land-locked harbor, large enough for any number of vessels, – and a beautiful one as well."

"But isn't it frozen a large part of the year?" my father asked.

"From the latter part of December to April. It's really too bad so great a country as ours hasn't an outlet further south. But all trade isn't stopped on account of the ice. There is a channel kept open for the largest ships all winter by means of ice-breakers."

"What kind of people are there in Vladivostok?" I ventured to ask, half fearful of saying something ridiculous.

The man turned to me with a smile. "Many exactly like those in your village. Then people from different parts of Europe, and Chinese and Japanese. Also quite a number of Koreans, whom you can tell by their white dress. You'll see those in Habarovsk, also." After a moment's pause, he went on, "The bay is called the Golden Horn (Zolotoy Rog). The town rises up from it in terraces. It is very picturesque."

"I suppose there is a fort there," I again ventured.

This time the man laughed. "If you visited this seaport you might think it all forts. There are defenses, – forts and guns, – whole lines of them, everywhere. The greater part of the population consists of soldiers and sailors."

Here my father broached the subject of which his mind seemed so full these days. "I suppose there are fine schools," he said.

I was so stiff by this time, and my back ached so much from the long unusual ride, that I was no longer able to concentrate my mind on anything except that I must not disgrace my father and myself by showing fatigue.

At last we approached the great Amur River. Across it we could just make out a few black spots and the shining roof of a church.

After a half hour ride we came to a place on the bank where a raft was stationed. A few people were already aboard, desiring, like ourselves, to be taken across. Two soldiers had the boat in charge, and as soon as we were on, every one helped them in making the somewhat difficult trip.

On the opposite bank we parted from our companion, and then, for the first time, I fully realized that we had reached our destination, – the important garrison town of Habarovsk.

CHAPTER XII

A GARRISON TOWN

This was my first visit to a city, and I gazed with very wide wonder at the wooden sidewalks, the big stores, the many two-story houses, the well-dressed women and the numerous soldiers on the street. I could hardly understand what father said to me, so absorbed was I in the entirely new scenes before me.

Suddenly we heard the sound of trumpets, cymbals, and tambourines, accompanied by a lively song. Then a company of Cossacks on horseback issued from a side street. At the head of the column rode a group of special singers, —pesenniki.

Father and I stationed ourselves near the edge of the street, and tried to find a familiar figure. The long row of faces splashed here and there with mud; the similar uniforms, with rifles protruding from leather straps at the back and swords at the side; the hats tipped to the right, all exactly at the same angle; every left hand holding the bridle reins, every right hand placed on the hips; – how was it possible to distinguish among them?

I soon decided that my only chance of finding Dimitri was to look for his horse, which I knew to be gray, while the majority were bay. It was not long before I shouted: "Father, look at the eighth row! Dimitri!" Then still louder: "Dimitri! Dimitri! Look! Here we are!"

Brother turned and nodded, but, to my great astonishment, did not come to us, but followed the others without giving any other expression of recognition.

Then I heard father saying, "Why can't you be quiet? Dimitri can't come to us until his company is dismissed."

Meanwhile the Cossacks, six abreast, continued to ride past us whistling and singing.

The entire population of the place now seemed to gather on the sidewalk. There were merchants in front of their stores, boys who tried hard to keep step with the horses, women returning from market with baskets on their arms, all gazing with appreciation at what was a daily sight. How very desirable it seemed to me to be one of such a company. How glad I was that my brother belonged to it, and that my father was a Cossack. Hoping to impress a pretty little girl who stood near me, I took off my felt cap with its yellow cloth top, symbolic of the East Siberian Cossacks, and then having looked at it, slowly put it on again.

The Cossack officers rode on one side of the men. They were distinguished not only by their brighter uniforms but also by the half Arabian horses on which they were mounted. Many of them had silver-plated belts around their waists. They had no rifles, only swords that shone brightly, while revolvers hung from their left sides. The bridles of their horses glimmered with silver. All the horses were covered with foam, showing that the drill had been no easy one.

When we reached the barracks, the commanding officer gave an order, and the whole company leaped like one man from their horses to the ground. Another order, and the horses were led to the stables, adobe buildings covered with thatched roofs.

After the horses were rubbed down and fed, Dimitri at last came and embraced us, saying: "Wait for me at the rooms of the second platoon, where I'll join you as soon as I am free."

Then he ran with others to wash before taking his place in the dining-room. As we made our way to the dormitory, my attention was again attracted by singing, but of a different kind. It was the solemn prayer which was always chanted before dinner.

Soon we found ourselves in a long room in a brick building. Everything about it was exceedingly neat. High windows admitted plenty of light, and as all were open there was a fine circulation of fresh air. The walls were apparently freshly white-washed, the floors painted. In one corner hung a big ikon with a lamp under it. About fifty iron beds placed in two rows were down the middle. Each bed was covered with a gray blanket and each was marked with the name of the owner. Along the inside of the wall stood racks for the rifles.

When, after a half hour, we heard the chanting of the prayer of thanks in the dining-room near by, we looked expectantly at the door. The company soon filed in. Some stretched themselves on their beds, some sat down to read, and some began to mend their clothes.

When Dimitri came, one of father's first inquiries was regarding schools and the promotion to officer rank. My brother was not well posted and so called the sergeant-major to help him. Time passed quickly until the hour for drill. Then the first Cossack who noticed that an officer had entered the room, exclaimed, "Silence! Rise!"

At once there was deep quiet as all arose. I was amazed at the sudden change, and looked with respect and fear at the man who could produce it. It was father's old-time friend, Captain Mongalov. I watched everything that he did with great intentness, noted how his worn-out uniform was tightly buttoned, how erect he held his body. Even the curves of his legs, probably caused from living so much on horseback, and the way he swayed from side to side as he walked, attracted me. And how splendid and fierce I thought his big black mustache reaching almost to his ears.

His face was a peculiar mixture of the Russian and Asiatic types, occasionally met among Siberian Cossacks. When he smiled, he showed two rows of perfect ivory, and he smiled often. Yet even with his comrades his expression could change to one of great sternness at the least break of discipline.

When he saw us he turned to my father with, "From where do you hail, friend?"