Boris the Bear-Hunter

But Sweden at this time was strong and courageous, and there sat upon her throne a young prince who had been devoted from his earliest infancy to the study of war and its practice in the playground—Charles XII.; who at this very moment was proving to the allies of Russia—Poland and Denmark—that in picking a quarrel with him they had attacked a hornet's nest. Charles had not as yet attained to his full reputation as a soldier; but he was formidable already, and his name was feared and respected by all who had had dealings with him in the field. For this reason, Peter knew well that he must proceed with caution.

No sooner was war declared than he marched away towards Narva, the nearest Esthonian fortress occupied by the Swedes; for, could he but possess himself of this stronghold, he foresaw that the Neva and the opposite coasts of the Gulf of Finland would be practically at his mercy, for both Livonia and Esthonia would be cut off from direct communication with those parts.

Thus Narva became the first objective for the armies of Peter. But the journey from Moscow to that fortress, undertaken at this late season of the year, proved long and tedious. The transport service was crude and inefficient, and the want of stores delayed the march; the roads were frightfully bad, as any one who knows Russian roads, even at this day, may well believe; hence it was not until the first days of November that the first detachment of troops with a portion of the artillery arrived before the walls of Narva.

The Tsar himself superintended the placing of the guns in position, and fired the first shot. It was soon found that the gun-carriages had been so knocked about that they would not stand more than two or three discharges, and then broke in pieces. By the 14th November all the powder and shot had been used, and the troops were obliged to sit and wait for new supplies with the best grace they could muster.

During this tiresome period of waiting the garrison of Narva made several gallant sorties. During one of these, Peter's own regiment, the Preobrajensk, was engaged, Boris and the Tsar both fighting at their posts. One of the foreign officers, a certain Major Hummert, at one period of the engagement, finding himself pressed by the Swedes, became alarmed, and gave the word to retire; thereupon the whole regiment turned and fled in sudden panic, in spite of all the efforts of the officers to keep them in their places. The Tsar was furious, and sent for Hummert in the evening, when the day's fighting was over, in order to treat him to one of those ebullitions of passion in which he indulged on provocation. But poor Hummert could not face the ordeal, and escaping from the lines under cover of the darkness, deserted to the enemy. Peter hung him in effigy; but the Swedes themselves improved upon this by hanging the deserter in the flesh. Shortly after this episode, the Tsar left the Russian troops at Narva and departed to attend to other duties, and while he was absent a great and unexpected misfortune befell the Russians.

No sooner did Charles of Sweden hear of the action of Peter in laying siege to Narva than he took ship with nine thousand troops for Revel and Pernau. Landing at these ports, he marched with all his characteristic energy and marvellous expedition straight across country to Narva, falling upon the Russians from the rear like a sudden terrible tornado. The Russians, with the exception of the Preobrajensk and Semenofski—two of the veteran regiments—ran like sheep, hardly striking a blow in self-defence. They rushed hither and thither headlong, shrieking that the "Germans had betrayed them," and making matters very unpleasant for their foreign officers, many of whom they killed, or chased over the field. The Preobrajensk, with Boris among them, held out bravely, and Boris had the honour of crossing swords with Charles XII. as the latter rode by slashing right and left with his weapon, and doing execution at each passage of his terrible blade. Boris barred his way, guarded a tremendous downward cut at his helm, and lunged fiercely back, striking the Swedish king full in the breast-plate, and causing him to grab with his left hand at the horse's mane in order to prevent himself falling over backwards. Charles was furious, and smote at Boris with such energy that, though Boris guarded the blow, the sword cut his tall Preobrajensk helmet clean in two, but fortunately left his head untouched. Then the hunter's blood was thoroughly up, and he slashed back at the king with such good will that his Majesty was knocked clean off his horse by the force of the blows, though his body remained unwounded. At the same moment the horse itself received a flesh wound and dashed away in terror and pain. But Charles was quickly placed upon a second horse by his people, who thronged around when they perceived his dangerous position, and the king, though he endeavoured to get back to Boris, was unable, because the crowd separated them. Charles turned in his saddle and smiled and waved to Boris. "Well done, Russian," he shouted. "I am glad there are not many of them like you! We'll finish this another day!"

But Boris, together with the rest of his regiment, was being forced back at this moment, fighting for every yard of ground, and he had no time to respond to his Majesty's kind attentions. Bravely the Preobrajensk fought, but the weight of numbers drove them back surely and steadily; and now they were upon the bridge which the Russians themselves had built in order to connect the two portions of their camp, which occupied both sides of the river. Suddenly, the bridge being crammed at the moment with crowds of Russian soldiers and gun-carriages, all retiring face to foe, there was a terrible sound of crashing and rending timbers, which rose above the din of musketry fire, the shouting of officers, and the cries of the wounded, and in an instant Boris found himself struggling in the half-frozen waters of the river, one of several hundred Russians in the same predicament.

As we have had occasion to see during the course of his adventurous career, water had no terrors for Boris; but to the danger of drowning was added on this occasion a far greater peril. The banks were lined with Swedish soldiers, and these men immediately opened fire upon the unfortunate Russians in the water. As Charles wrote to a friend after the battle, "The greatest fun was when the bridge broke and tumbled the Russians into the water. The whole surface of the river was crammed with heads and legs of men and horses sticking up, and my men shot at them as though they were ducks."

It may have been very amusing for Charles XII. to watch, but it was very poor fun for Boris and his unfortunate companions, who were drowned around him in scores, while hundreds of others were killed by the rain of bullets poured upon them from the banks.

Boris felt that this was indeed a critical moment in his career, for if he allowed his head to remain a moment above the surface his life was not worth a moment's purchase. Accordingly, the hunter allowed himself to sink to the bottom, and then swam under water down the current, as fast and as far as his breath would hold out. The water was freezing cold, and he was much hampered in his swimming by the numbers of drowning men whom he was obliged to circumvent as far as possible for fear of being seized and drowned before he could escape from the grip of despair.

Boris came to the surface some twenty yards from the bridge, but the bullets were falling upon the water like hailstones in a sharp shower, and after taking a gulp or two of air he sank once more. He was instantly gripped by a drowning man, who clung to his throat with both hands. Boris felt that his last hour was come, and said the prayer of the dying; nevertheless he gripped the man by the neck also, and it became a strangling match. For ten seconds or so, which seemed an eternity, both men throttled each other in this strange and unnatural duel, and then Boris saw the man's mouth open wide and the water pour in, and the poor fellow's grasp relaxed and let go, and he floated away.

Boris rose to the surface a second time, but little further from the bridge than before. Finding a dead body floating beside him as he rose, he used this as a screen from the fire while he took four or five deep lungfuls of air. He was used to the water now and did not feel it so cold. He dived again, and this time he swam under water for a long distance, coming to the surface far enough from the bridge to be out of the great crush of struggling humanity.

From this point his progress was much easier; and though he was shot at several times, none of the bullets struck him. One Swedish soldier ran down the bank after him, and fired twice as he rose. Boris was obliged to pretend that he was hit in order to rid himself of this tiresome individual. He raised his arms and gave a cry as of one sorely struck, and sank; but came to the surface ten yards further up stream and close under the bank, whence he watched the soldier look out for him to appear at a point lower down, his musket ready to shoot again. Presently the man, satisfied that Boris was "done for," came slowly along towards the bridge, and the hunter bobbed beneath the current, though he stood in shallow water close to the low bank. As he came up again the Swedish soldier was just passing him, but he did not see him, for he was gazing towards the bridge, looking out for more Russian ducks to wing. Boris could not resist the temptation, but stretched out his arm and seized the man by the leg, pulling him violently as he did so. The Swede slipped and fell with a cry of surprise and alarm; but Boris dragged him remorselessly down into the cold stream before he could recover himself, and pushing him out into deep water drowned him then and there as a punishment for his cruelty in shooting poor, struggling Russians as they battled for life with the river.

Almost worn out, Boris, by swimming and diving, succeeded in making his way to a turn of the stream where he was out of sight of the bridge and its tragedies, and he came to the shore for a good rest.

He was numb and cold and stiff, and finding a dead Swedish soldier he took the liberty of divesting him of his uniform and of putting himself into it, leaving his own wet garments on the ground. He took the man's sword and pistol also; and thus provided, Boris felt that, all things considered, he had come fairly well out of this adventure.

After resting a while, the hunter took careful observations from a neighbouring tree to discover in which direction the Russian army had fled, and how best to avoid the Swedish troops which, he imagined, would be sure to have followed in close pursuit. But Boris soon found that he had little to fear from the Swedish forces. They had by this time all returned to the Russian camp, and were now making free with the Russian provisions, which they much needed, since they had marched for nearly three days without resting and with scarcely any food to eat, thanks to the energy and military ardour of their young king, who was determined to reach the Russian position before rumours of his landing should have spoiled his game.

That night every Swedish soldier in his army was drunk with Russian vodka; and had the Russians known it, they might have returned and made short work of their late victors. But the troops of the Tsar were now far away, heading for home as rapidly as they could get over the ground, in terror for their lives, and imagining that the Swedes with that terrible young king at their head would overtake them and cut them to pieces at any moment.

Thus Peter's first attempt to wrest a fortress from Sweden proved a terrible failure; but the experience was by no means an unmixed disaster for Russia, because of its different effect upon the minds of the two sovereigns concerned. Charles was puffed up with pride and vainglory, and from the day of his victory at Narva imagined himself to be invincible, and the Russians to be mere sheep who would scatter at any time at the barking of a dog. The Tsar, on the other hand, took his defeat coolly and sensibly. It was an object lesson, and he recognized it as such. His men were, he knew, mere recruits; the troops of Charles were veterans. He studied the details of the fight as reported to him by his generals, and learned, by careful comparison, where the Swedish generalship had been superior to the Russian, and made a note of it. "We shall learn to fight by-and-by!" he said; "and when we have learned what Charles has to teach us, we shall practise our knowledge upon our teacher!" Events proved that Narva was a blessing in disguise to the vanquished Russian troops, and that this was so is due to the greatness of Peter.

CHAPTER XXVI.

HOW BORIS OUTWITTED THE SWEDISH ADMIRAL

His reverse at Narva aroused the Tsar to tremendous exertions. He met the remains of his beaten troops at Novgorod, where he ordered every portion of the scattered army to assemble and report itself. The town of Novgorod first, and afterwards those of Pskof and Petcherski—the site of the famous monastery—were strongly fortified and garrisoned, as the frontier to be defended against a possible advance of the enemy. For the work of fortification every man, woman, and child in the several districts was employed; the services in the churches were suspended in order that the priests might be free to assist in the business of national defence; houses and even churches were pulled down if they in any degree impeded the work; the bells of cathedrals and monasteries all over the country were melted down to supply metal for the forging of cannon; and through it all Peter himself worked like a common labourer in the trenches, except that he did as much work as any three other men. His disposition towards those generals who had been beaten at Narva was kind, and he did not this time allow his passion to get the mastery of his judgment; so that all men worked in harmony for the defence of the fatherland.

Gradually the troops dribbled into Novgorod, arriving sometimes in bodies of several hundreds, and occasionally in small companies of ten or a dozen men.

One fine afternoon a small company reached the town, bringing with them a Swedish prisoner, whom they led straight to the Tsar as he stood working in the trenches, exceedingly proud of their achievement in having secured and retained the fellow, for he was a big man, much bigger than any of themselves, and a good deal too big for his clothes. The men marched up to the trench where the Tsar was busy with his spade, and stood at attention. Peter looked up after a while. "Well," he said, "what is it?"

"A Swedish prisoner, your Majesty," said the men.

Peter was all attention immediately, for this was the first prisoner brought in, and he might prove an exceedingly valuable source of information as to Charles's intended movements. The Tsar fumbled in his pocket for loose cash, intending to bestow a gratuity on those who had effected the capture. But as he did so his eye fell upon the face of the prisoner. Peter stared at the fellow. Suddenly his countenance changed, and he burst into one of his loudest laughs.

"Bear-eater," he said, "I shall never believe you dead again, until I bury you with my own hands.—Get out there, you idiots, and report yourselves to your colonel; your prisoner is about as much a Swede as I am.—Here, Boris, my wonderful Bear-eater, come into this ditch, if you aren't a ghost, and tell me all about it. Don't think I am not mighty glad to see you; but there's no time for chatting idly. Get a spade and come in; we can talk as we dig."

So Boris was obliged to do half a day's work in the trenches while he told the Tsar his story, part of which we know.

"At last," Boris continued, having described his adventures in the water, and how he had travelled half the night in pursuit of the retiring Russian troops—"at last I overtook those heroes there, who, seeing that I was in a Swedish uniform, were at first for catching up all they were possessed of and continuing their headlong flight; but finding that I was but one belated man, and without a musket besides, they gallantly surrounded me and discussed my throat as a suitable whetstone for their swords. I informed them in my purest Russian that I was of their own way of thinking—not as to my throat, but politically; but they were not to be taken in, and declared that I was a Swedish spy, and as such ought to be shot. I pointed out that, even if this were so, it would be far better to make me a prisoner and take me straight to the Tsar, who would give them a handsome gratuity for their service. What would they gain by shooting me down? There would be no nachaiok [tea-money], and no glory either; for none would believe them, and they could not well take along my body for evidence, with the Swedish troops in full pursuit behind them; it would hamper their movements and prevent their escape! This last consideration decided them, and they took me prisoner, and bound me hand and foot. One of them had secured a horse, and as I found it awkward to walk all tied up like a bit of boiled beef, they put me on the horse and gave me a pleasant lift to Novgorod; and here I am."

"Well done, my Bear-eater," said the Tsar, delighted with the tale. "I thought we could trust you to take good care of yourself, and, believing this, I did not send word to Nancy of your death—which is just as well. And now I have plenty of work for you!"

There was indeed work, not only for Boris but for all those who had the safety of the country at heart. Besides the fortifying of the frontier towns, there was much recruiting to be done. The Tsar would have nine new regiments of dragoons formed at once; this being one of the results of his object lesson at Narva, where the cavalry of Charles had swept Peter's timid footmen before them like autumn leaves before the storm-wind. Then the infantry regiments must be patched up with new men to fill the gaps. And the drilling of all these soldiers, new and old, must be taken in hand by men like Boris qualified to undertake it. All this necessary work was set agoing without a moment's delay by the never-weary Tsar; and so well did it proceed that, within a few months after the rout at Narva, Peter found himself in possession of a far better army than that which he had left beneath the walls of the Swedish fortress to be cut to pieces by the enemy as soon as he had turned his back.

Boris was as busy as man could be over his various occupations, but found time to write continually to Moscow, where his letters comforted and entertained his wife amazingly, whose faith in the star of Boris was so great, that even his narrative of the adventures at and after Narva alarmed her less than they amused her. She felt, as the Tsar had declared that he also felt, that under any conceivable circumstances her husband was well able to take care of himself.

But with the spring came a change for the hunter. News arrived that the Swedish fleet meditated a descent upon Archangel as soon as the disappearance of the ice should have rendered navigation possible. Boris, to his delight, was sent up north to superintend the fortification of the old town which had been the home of his boyhood and early youth. The hunter received his new commission with joy, and started at once, passing through those forests and villages which were memorable by reason of his adventures with the Tsar nearly ten years ago. Though there was no time to waste, Boris managed to enjoy a day or two in the woods, after his old friends the bears and wolves, and reached Archangel early in April, when he commenced the work of fortifying the place without further delay.

And now the hunter was to experience one of the most exciting of all the adventures of his chequered career. Scarcely was the ice away, and the mouth of the Dwina open to navigation, than one fine day in May there appeared a fleet of, seemingly, English and Dutch merchant vessels, which sailed in from sea and anchored off the island of Modiug. Suspecting nothing, a boat containing fifteen soldiers, acting as custom-house officials, made the usual visit to the foreign ships to collect the harbour dues, receive the reports of cargo, and go through the ordinary commercial formalities in connection with the port. These men did not return at once; and when night fell and they were still absent, the authorities were obliged to conclude that the Dutch or British skippers had proved too hospitable, and that the officials were still occupied in drinking the health of the first arrivals of the year. But in the middle of the night Boris, in his capacity of commissioner of the Tsar, was awakened from his sleep by a half-drowned, dripping person, who stated that he was one of those who had been sent on board the supposed English and Dutch merchantmen. He had swum ashore at Modiug, he said, having escaped from the cabin in which the company had been confined. But the rest were still on board, and likely to remain so; for the ships were not merchantmen but vessels of war, and their crews were not good Englishmen and Dutchmen but blackguardly Swedes, sailing under false colours in order to steal a march upon the forts and capture the city unawares as soon as the first glimmering of light should render such an enterprise possible. The man had climbed out, by the help of his companions, through the skylight, choosing his time when the sentry had his back turned, had crept to the side, let himself down by means of a rope, and swum to the island. There he found a boat, and got himself rowed quickly to the town; and here he was! The man added that he had overheard it said that three of the vessels would signal for a pilot in the morning, and sail into port; the remainder of the fleet were to wait where they were, in case of accidents, and would come on if required.

Boris made glad the heart of this dripping hero by rewarding him handsomely in money, and promising to mention his conduct to the Tsar at the first opportunity. Then the hunter sat down to think matters out, and the result of his cogitations was, first, a visit to the commandant of the fort, to whom he gave his instructions. After this Boris got himself ready for the further development of his plans, and took up his position in the pilot-house, whence a good view of the foreigners would be obtained as soon as it became light enough to see. Boris had concocted a delightful plot, and hugged himself with joy to think how the Tsar would roar with laughter when he told him of it, after its successful outcome. It did not occur to Boris that he ran about as good a chance of having his own throat cut as ever man deliberately set himself to run; but then Boris was a great believer in his own star, and would have laughed at the very idea of danger in his scheme.

When morning came, Boris soon observed the usual signal flying from the deceitful flag-ship's mainmast indicating that a pilot was required. Then he arrayed himself in an over-garment, which caused him to look as much like a pilot as any other man, stepped into the pilot-boat, and had himself conveyed on board the Swedish admiral's ship, to the great astonishment of the real pilot, who could not imagine why the Tsar's commissioner usurped his duties when he had plenty of his own to look after.

When Boris stepped aboard the frigate, the Swedish admiral did not pretend to be other than he really was, but roughly bade the "pilot" take the vessel into Archangel harbour. The pilot, simulating great fear and distress of mind, did as he was told—the frigate, followed by its two companions, sailing gallantly forward on a light wind direct for port.

But that deceitful pilot did not intend that those Swedish ships should ever reach the harbour save under the Russian flag, and before a mile of water had been covered they were all three suddenly brought up by running straight upon a sandbank which jutted out from the island of Modiug. When the admiral and the rest of the Swedish gentlemen who happened to be on deck at the moment of the catastrophe had picked themselves up from the undignified attitudes into which they had been thrown by the shock, they learned two extremely unpleasant things. One was that their pilot had left them the legacy of his topcoat, and had taken a neat header into the water, whence he was now addressing certain remarks to them in the English language, remarks of a valedictory nature, coupled with flattering expressions of the hope that he would soon have the pleasure of meeting them again on shore; and the other that the forts were in the act of opening fire upon them as they lay helpless and immovable upon the sandbank.

Within half a minute of the first discovery a dozen furious Swedes had snatched their muskets, and a dozen Swedish bullets whistled through the air and sent up little fountains of spray as they struck the water somewhere near the spot where the head of that pilot had last appeared. But the head was no longer there. When it appeared again it did so in a direction where it was not expected; and though the bullets sought it once more, they did not find it. The furious Swedes even went so far as to train a gun upon the vanishing black spot, and banged away merrily at it with musket and cannon as long as it was in sight, but never went within several yards of the mark; for Boris dived so deftly and dodged so cunningly that he invariably had plenty of time to fill his lungs before he was seen and shot at.

Meanwhile the fort blazed away at the stranded ships, with such success that these soon hauled down their colours; after which a party of Russians from the fort put off in boats to take possession, picking up the swimming pilot on their way. Once on board, the Russians turned the ships' guns upon the four remaining Swedish vessels and quickly drove them from their moorings.

Boris was not mistaken as to the Tsar's delight upon hearing of his exploit. Peter wrote him an affectionate and appreciative letter, in which he congratulated him on his out-foxing the old Swedish reynard, presented him with a gratuity of two thousand roubles, and gave him a commission in the navy. Peter himself was at this time a boatswain in the same service, having risen, some say, from the humble position of cabin-boy, in which capacity he had insisted upon entering the navy in order that he might experience the duties of every grade of both branches of the service.

CHAPTER XXVII.

SMALL BEGINNINGS OF A GREAT CITY

Boris lived on at Archangel during the whole of the summer of 1701; but his Majesty of Sweden did not venture to send a second force to Russia's only seaport, the first lesson having proved a salutary one. Boris had therefore plenty of time for the indulgence of his passion for hunting, and during those pleasant months he was fully occupied in clearing the country around, including his own native village, of the bears which infested it. The peasants declared that they had suffered from a plague of bears since his departure, for there had been no one to rid the place of them. Accordingly, the hunter had a grand summer of it among the members of the Bruin family, who must have regretted his reappearance as fervently as the peasants rejoiced over it. Nancy with the little ones had joined Boris at Archangel, and the pair enjoyed many days together in the woods, days which reminded them of old Moscow times and recalled the three quiet years at Karapselka.

With the approach of winter, however, came letters from the Tsar appointing Boris to the command of one of the new regiments of infantry, and requiring his immediate attendance at the head of his men to act under the orders of General Sheremetieff, who had already had a brush with the Swedes at Rappin in Livonia, and was now waiting to follow up his success there with a more important affair. In January the opportunity arrived, and a serious engagement was fought at Erestfer, Boris being present with his regiment. On this occasion the Russian troops gained a victory which went far to efface the memory of Narva. Three thousand of the troops of Charles XII. were left dead upon the field, after both sides had fought for several hours with the greatest courage and determination. Every officer engaged in this fight was promoted or decorated, Sheremetieff being made field-marshal, and Boris receiving the decoration of St. Ann. The troops marched into Moscow in triumph, and a solemn Te Deum was chanted in the national cathedral in the Kremlin.

The Russians followed up this success with a second brilliant victory at Hummelshof, which decided the fate of Livonia; and this unfortunate province was given over to devastation, from the effects of which it took many years to recover. Swedish prisoners became so common that a boy or a girl of fifteen years of age could be bought for the sum of fourpence.

Boris was not present at this second battle, for he had at this time accompanied the Tsar to Archangel, whither Peter had travelled on ship-building intent. Here the pair had a small adventure with a bear. Boris had introduced the Tsar on this occasion to a new method of hunting the bear—that of sitting in ambush over the carcass of a horse or a cow, in the hope that the bear will scent the delicacy and arrive to make a meal of it. On the occasion in question the Tsar and Boris had sat up in the branches of two pine trees opposite each other for two nights without result, and were in the midst of a third, which Peter vowed should be the last—for the carcass was by this time so very unsavoury that nothing would induce him to sit there another night—when of a sudden the watchers became aware by sundry gruntings and shufflings in the distance that the guest for whom the feast had been set was approaching.

It was a moonlight night, and Peter, being anxious to secure the brute while he could see to shoot, sighted him as best he could, and pulled the trigger. The bullet passed through one of the bear's ears, and only served to enrage it. Seeing the smoke hanging about the tree in which the Tsar sat, the angry brute rightly guessed that its assailant lurked amid the branches, and with a roar of rage and defiance it dashed to the foot of the tree, intent upon climbing it and fetching down the rash person who had dared to burn its ear with a hot iron.

The Tsar had nothing but his knife to protect himself with; and remembering this, Boris was somewhat concerned to observe the course which events had taken. He was not long in making up his mind, however, that he must shoot and that quickly, for the bear was already half-way up the trunk of the pine. Boris hastily put his gun to his shoulder and fired, but his bullet did nothing better than hit the furious brute in the foot, redoubling its fury.

The Tsar was now in a somewhat serious position, for it is never pleasant to be obliged to face a bear with no weapon excepting a knife, and from the insecure position of a pine branch it is even less agreeable than on terra firma. Peter nevertheless drew his knife and settled himself in his place, resolved to make things as unpleasant as possible for the visitor, as soon as he should come within striking distance.

Up came Bruin, hand over hand, climbing very fast, and already the Tsar was slashing at him, though as yet without reaching him, when suddenly, with a loud roar of rage, the bear let go his hold of the tree trunk and slipped down to the ground, clutching at the stem of the tree as he went. Boris, seeing the Tsar's danger, had slipped down from his perch, and with a bound just succeeded in catching hold of the bear's hind feet, from which he dangled and swung with all his weight. This sudden mysterious tugging from below had so startled Bruin that he let go and fell together with poor Boris to the ground, the hunter being undermost. The bear caught him by the leg as he attempted to crawl away from beneath, and inflicted a nasty wound. But just at this moment the Tsar dropped from his perch to the ground, and stepping behind the bear as it tore at the poor hunter's leg, he deftly inserted his sharp blade in the brute's windpipe and ended the fray.