gently and half-reprovingly, “Foolish girl, it’s not time yet for me to die! The Mongols have not yet lost all hope for escape. It will be necessary to make the most of what we have. But if matters don’t turn out well there . . .”
“Please, dear papa,” whispered Peace-Renown through tears, “forsake such thoughts! How do you know it won’t be too late for you then!”
“Fret not, it shan’t be too late. Stay here and befriend the Tukholians for my sake . . . but I must return. Don’t forget, daughter there also . . . is . . . your Maxim and who knows, perhaps we can be of some assistance to each other. Farewell!”
Tuhar Wolf disappeared into the forest of saplings, hurrying along the path to the campfire above the cliffs by which he would find the path leading down into the Mongolian entrenchment. He examined the almost completed engine by the campfire, tried the ropes and shaking his head remarked, “It’s too weak!” and then, accompanied by Tukholian guards, he made his descent down the steep, narrow path into the valley.
In the meantime over the Glade of Light brooded an ominous silence as if within its center lay the body of a dearly beloved comrade. Only Peace-Renown sobbed audibly wiping away the tears which rolled down her face. Finally she moved nearer to Zakhar and said, “Father, what have you done?”
“That which it was my duty to do. It would not have been right to do otherwise,” replied Zakhar.
“But it’s your son, your own son! What will happen to him?”
“Whatever God wills, daughter. That’s enough, please don’t cry any more! We have work to do. There you see the starry wagon rolling down to the west and the quail in the thickets is announcing the approach of dawn.”
“Come fellow citizens, let us go to the defence, rather to
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