in them, and at the order "Stroisa!" [Form ranks!] the convicts, with a confused clinking of chains, took positions outside the shed in a somewhat ragged column; the soldiers, with shouldered rifles, went to their stations in front, beside, and behind the party; and Mr. Pépeláief, the chief of the local exile bureau, stepping upon a chair, cried, "Nu rebatta" [Well, boys], "have you anything to say or any complaints to make?"
"No; nothing, your Nobility," replied seventy-five or a hundred voices.
"Well, then, S'Bógem" [Go with God].
The soldiers threw open the wooden gate of the yard or pen; the under-officer shouted "Ready — March!" and with a renewed jingling of multitudinous chains, the gray column moved slowly out into the muddy road.
As soon as an opportunity presented itself, Colonel Yágodkin introduced us to Mr. Pépeláief, the chief officer of the local exile bureau, who supervised the reception and the forwarding of exile parties, the equipment of the convicts with clothing, and the examination and verification of their papers. Mr. Pépeláief, a rather tall, thin man, with a hard, cold face, greeted us politely, but did not seem pleased to see us there, and was not disposed to permit an inspection of the convict barge.
"What do they want to go on board the barge for?" he inquired rather curtly of Colonel Yágodkin. "There is nothing to see there, and besides it is inconvenient; the women are now cleaning it."
Colonel Yágodkin, however, knew that I was particularly anxious to see in what condition the floating prison was when the convicts left it, and, a few moments later, he introduced us to the convoy officer, and again suggested a visit to the barge. This time he was successful. The convoy officer evidently did not see any reason why Colonel Yágodkin should not go on board the barge with his friends if he wished to do so, and he at once cheerfully
