with 4,000 men and seven guns; but what was a greater loss still than his army and his guns, was that of the superstitious glamour which had surrounded him until now.  The belief in his incapability of defeat, that was lost too!  The revengeful Czar, who had but yesterday commenced his campaign, now had to fly to the desert, which promised him no refuge.  It was only then that the real horrors of the campaign commenced.  It was a war such as can be imagined in Russia only, where in the thousands and thousands of square miles of borderless desert scantily distributed hordes wander about, all hating Russian supremacy, and all born gun in hand.  Pugasceff took refuge amongst these people.  Once again he turned on Galiczin at Kargozki.  He was again defeated, and lost his last gun.  His sweetheart, Ulijanka, was also taken captive—­that is, if she did not betray him!  From here he escaped precipitately with his cavalry across the river Mjaes.

Here Siberia commences, and here Russia has no longer villages, but only military settlements which are divided from each other by a day’s march, across plains and the ancient forests, along the ranges of the Ural Mountains—­the so-called factories.

The Woszkrezenszki factory, situated one day’s walk into the desert, is divided by uncut forests from the Szimszki factory, in both of which cinnamon and tin paints are made, and here are to be seen the powder factory of Usiska and the bomb factory of Szatkin, where the exiled Russian convicts work.  At the meeting of the rivers are the small towns of Stepnaja, Troiczka Uszt, Magitnaja, Petroluskaja, Kojelga, guarded by native Cossacks, whilst others are garrisoned by disgraced battalions.  Hither came Pugasceff with the remnants of his army.  Galiczin pursued him for some time, but finally came to the conclusion that in this uninhabited country, where the solitary road is only indicated by snow-covered trenches, he could not, with his regular troops, reach an opponent whose tactics were to run away as far and as fast as possible.

Pugasceff rallied to him all the tribes along the Ural district, who deserted their homesteads and followed him.

The winter suddenly disappeared, and those mild, short April days commenced which one can only realize in Siberia, when at night the water freezes, while in the daytime the melting snow covers the expanse of waste, every mountain stream becomes a torrent, and the traveler finds in the place of every brook a vast sea.  The runaway might still proceed by sledge, but the pursuer would only find before him fathomless morasses.  Only one leader had the courage to pursue Pugasceff even into this land—­this was Michelson.  Just as the Siberian wolf who has tasted the blood of the wild boar does not swerve from the track, but pursues him even amongst reeds and morasses, so the daring leader chased his opponent from plain to plain.  He never had more than 1,000 men, cavalry, artillery, and gunners, all told.  Every one had