had ever conceived of even, and being forced to witness it he became sick and faint at heart. He had read of such things but until now he never believed them possible. He could not believe that anything wearing the human form could be so fiendishly cruel. Indeed, it seemed to be a holiday treat to those bearded beasts who wielded the thongs, and whenever a particular case was administered upon they would look at the newcomer with mocking leers.

Finally to Barnwell's infinite horror a young Russian girl was brought out bared to the waist.

She could not have been above twenty years of age and under different circumstances would have been beautiful and evidently belonged to a grade higher than the peasants.

"Zera Vola!" he heard the governor's officer call as the girl was led out for punishment.

"Great Scott!" exclaimed Barnwell, "are they going to flog her? I had rather die myself than see it!"

He looked around, but no one appeared to understand him, although he noted the horror and disgust on the faces of the new exiles.

The girl was blushing deeply at this forced exposition of her person, but she seemed otherwise firm and undaunted.

The wretch with the knout grinned, and made some insulting remarks, which his fellow-brutes appeared to enjoy very much.

Then she was placed in position and forced to bow her head so that her beautiful back might be rounded up for the cruel blows. And yet she did not flinch, and Barnwell saw red scars that told of previous castigations.

The grinning rascal raised his knout to strike her, when young Barnwell, mad with indignation, leaped into the arena.

With one powerful blow he felled the burly rascal like a log, and seizing his knout, placed his foot upon him and raised it as if to strike.

The movement was so sudden and so bold that the officers were for a moment paralyzed and stood looking at him.

"Wretches, to strike a woman! Flog me if you must vent your brutality, but if you claim to be men, don't harm that girl!" he cried.

She was the only one present who understood the English language.

"Oh, sir," said she, "they will kill you for this!"

"Let them; I had rather die than witness such horrible brutality."

The next instant he was seized, or an attempt was made to seize him, but before they succeeded in doing so, at least six of them felt his powerful blows and went down under them.

Quick orders were given, and his clothes were stripped from him, and he was held in position while the executioner rained blow after blow upon him to revenge the one he had received.

And then he was hurried away and thrust into a cold, damp dungeon, his lacerated flesh bleeding copiously, but with his heart still unbroken.

CHAPTER VI.

STRANGE ACQUAINTANCE.

William Barnwell suffered terribly during the next forty-eight hours after his terrible flogging, for having resented the punishment of a girl, for during all that time he was left without his clothes and without food.

But his clothes were finally thrown into his cell, together with half a loaf of black bread, dry and moldy.

He had never known what hunger was before, but now he seized that disgusting loaf and ate it with avidity, and while doing so he dressed himself, but without having a chance to wash his lacerations, the blood of which had dried upon his back.

But he had suffered much from the cold, and his clothes were welcome indeed.

What would be the next move?

He realized that he was a Russian victim, and that in all probability he would never leave Siberia alive, and that his friends would never know his fate.

Indeed, he understood now that exile to Siberia was like suddenly sinking into the earth or the sea, never to be seen or heard of again.

The particulars of his case were, however, reported to the secretary of the governor of Siberia, and through him to the governor, who, for some reason or other, became interested to such a degree that he ordered the presumptuous prisoner brought before him.

When taken from his loathsome cell, young Barnwell did not know, did not care what his fate was to be. He was so stiff that he could scarcely walk, and the doing so caused him great pain.

He was marched to the governor's palace by two armed guards, and presently taken into his presence.

But he was far from being the handsome-looking youth he was before he fell into the hands of Russian tyrants, although, in spite of his badly lacerated back, he still maintained his erect carriage and independent bearing.

The governor looked at him for a moment and then spoke to him in Russian, but Barnwell shook his head. Then he spoke German, but he did not understand that.

"English," said he.

"Oh, you are an Englishman–eh?" asked the governor, who appeared to be the master of many languages.

"No, sir; I am an American," replied Barnwell indignantly.

"What brings you here?"

"Fraud, deceit, and Russian tyranny."

"What did you do?"

"Simply brought a letter from New York, from Paul Zobriskie, without knowing what its contents were–simply to oblige a stranger–and this is my reward," said he bitterly.

"Paul Zobriskie! To whom directed?" the governor asked cautiously.

"Prince Mastowix."

"Ah! he has been lately executed."

"Thank God!" exclaimed Barnwell.

"And you knew nothing of the contents of the letter?"

"Nothing; but it is evident that he thought I did, and when I assured him that I was not a Nihilist, he ordered my arrest, and here I am in cursed Siberia."

"You speak too strongly."

"Because I have been outraged."

"You struck one of the guard."

"Yes; because he was about to strike a lady on her bare back with his cruel knout, which act my American blood revolted at," replied Barnwell.

"That is the way we punish refractory prisoners."

"Well, it is the way of brutes and fiends."

"You are altogether too outspoken, sir."

"Why should I not be? I owe no allegiance to the Czar," replied Barnwell, quickly.

"But you owe respect to me, sir."

"As the kid owes respect to the wolf in whose power it is."

"Be cautious, I advise you. If what you say of yourself is true, why did you not appeal to the American Minister at St. Petersburg?"

"I was not permitted to do so, sir, but was thrown into a dungeon."

"Did you know Zobriskie was a Nihilist?"

"I did not. He accosted me when on the eve of sailing, and asked me as a favor to hand the letter to Prince Mastowix. I did so without suspecting that I was in any danger."

"But it appears that you were in danger, and as I learn from St. Petersburg, that letter by some means or other got into the hands of the authorities, he was arrested, brought before the tribunal, proven to be a Nihilist in disguise, and executed. It is very strange," he added.

"But I am not to blame, and why should I suffer for the faults of others?"

"Well, you should not."

"Then send me back to St. Petersburg," said Barnwell, eagerly.

"That I cannot do without an imperial order. But I will forward the particulars of your case to the authorities, and then, if they see fit to act favorably towards you, I will send you back again with pleasure," replied the governor, who was not altogether bad at heart.

"How long will it take?"

"That I cannot say."

"And what of the money that was taken from me, and my passport, and not returned?"

"Well, sir, if you succeed in establishing your innocence, they will be restored to you. Was your passport franked by the American Minister?"

"Yes; and that should enable him to establish both my identity and my innocence."

"But it might take him a long time to show the Imperial Government that you are not an enemy to Russia."

"But it can be shown."

"We shall see."

"And in the meantime must I remain in that dungeon?"

"No, I will remand