Even the bells on the shafts could no longer rouse them, and they stumbled every instant.
"At what time shall we reach the top of the ridge ?" asked Michael of the iemschik.
"At one o'clock in the morning if we ever get there at all," replied he, with a shake of his head.
"Why, my friend, this will not be your first storm in the mountains, will it ?" "No, and pray God it may not be my last!" "Are you afraid ?" "No, I'm not afraid, but I repeat that I think you were wrong in starting." "I should have been still more wrong had I stayed." "Hold up, my pigeons!" cried the iemschik; it was his business to obey, not to question.
Just then a distant noise was heard, shrill whistling through the atmosphere, so calm a minute before.

By the light of a dazzling flash, almost immediately followed by a tremendous clap of thunder, Michael could see huge pines on a high peak, bending before the blast.

The wind was unchained, but as yet it was the upper air alone which was disturbed.

Successive crashes showed that many of the trees had been unable to resist the burst of the hurricane.

An avalanche of shattered trunks swept across the road and dashed over the precipice on the left, two hundred feet in front of the tarantass.
The horses stopped short.
"Get up, my pretty doves!" cried the iemschik, adding the cracking of his whip to the rumbling of the thunder.
Michael took Nadia's hand.