with honors,» Leonid muttered.
«The next morning, the villagers awoke,» Saveliy continued, his tone devoid of amusement, «and found their goods piled up in the middle of the street.»
«Is everything beneath the banner of righteousness?»
«Not everything, of course. The Bugrovites themselves need to survive somehow!»
«Alright, storyteller, let's set up camp here. Tomorrow, we'll figure out how to cross to the other side.»
By the time they had established their camp and hastily prepared supper, darkness had enveloped the surroundings. Leonid cherished these late hours when everyone else was asleep, allowing him to sit beside the extinguished fire, gazing up at the stars entangled in the treetops, and listening to the nocturnal sounds of the taiga. No, he needed to sleep; tomorrow, a challenging crossing awaited them. Climbing into the tent, he wrapped himself in an old, homemade plaid (a reminder of Olga), removed his glasses, carefully placing them beside him, and soon drifted off to sleep.
Mirachevsky was abruptly awakened by a sharp push in his side.
«Ignatiy that's the boss! Look, he's got glasses.»
It was the twilight hour before dawn, when darkness veiled everything, and only a faint light touched the eastern sky above the forest, while the shore lay hidden beneath a thick shroud of mist. The armed men cautiously peered into the tents, but seemingly, no new orders had arrived, so they remained as silent guardians. The whole scene resembled a peculiar, wordless movie.
The red-haired guy, who had woken Leonid up earlier, guided him towards a short, robust young man who clearly seemed to be the leader. In the semi-darkness, the engineer couldn't discern the features of his face.
«What is going on here? Who are you?» Leonid began calmly, despite the cold morning and the excitement that gripped him.
«Hear that!» the redhead retorted with an unpleasant grin, though not loudly. «They came uninvited and now they ask questions!»
«Wait, Semyon,» the chief gestured to the guy with an expressive look.
«Why? You, strangers, came here and went to bed. Feeling at home?» Semyon persisted.
The leader waved him off irritably, and the redhead stepped back. «You don't seem easily frightened,» the stranger said with a low, pleasant voice.
At that moment, someone lit a torch, and Leonid finally got a glimpse of the man's face. Black curly hair, a matching slightly graying beard, a shrewd gaze, and a mocking expression – overall, the first impression was somewhat favorable. «But if anything goes awry, he won't hesitate to act…» Leonid thought to himself, before speaking up:
«I have nothing to fear. I'm the head of the survey party, and everyone here knows that. But I'm curious to know why you need me.»
«I am Ignatiy Bugor, the chief of these lands,» the man introduced himself.
Laughter echoed around. Saveliy emerged from a nearby tent and was immediately seized by a burly individual. Bugor continued, his tone both humorous and authoritative:
«You are now at my disposal.»
«That's impossible. We have an important mission to accomplish…» Leonid objected.
«Perhaps you will, that remains to be seen. For now, gather your belongings and don't cause trouble. I'll handle anyone who resists,» Bugor nodded towards the guide who attempted to break free, his hand hovering over his holster.
«But I can't leave the surveying instruments. I'm responsible for them,» Leonid tried to reason.
Bugor nodded, then ordered Saveliy to be brought forward, and inquired:
«Can you get the men back?»
Saveliy remained silent.
«Proud too, I see. Very well, be quiet. Once the others wake up, pack up everything and return it as it is.»
Turning back to Leonid, Bugor clarified:
«Return it where?»
«To Kirensk.»
«Understood. And ensure there's no pursuit. Otherwise, you'll lose your boss.»
Leonid packed his belongings, bid farewell to Saveliy, and asked him to inform his wife and the chairman that he had crossed paths with another group of prospectors in the taiga and would be working with them temporarily. Two boats awaited the bandits near the shore.
As they sailed through the fog, it felt like a haunting dream to the engineer. He couldn't fathom what was happening – these men had taken nothing: no possessions, no provisions, not even weapons.
«Why do you need me?» he inquired.
«Well…» Bugor evaded the question.
They sailed for quite a while. The current picked up, and the increasing noise suggested that rapids might lie ahead. Indeed, the boats docked on the opposite shore, concealed behind towering boulders, and the group ventured deeper into the forest. At first glance, it seemed like an utterly untamed place – no trail or broken branches. To Leonid's surprise, a clearing with several dugouts and tents suddenly emerged before them. Clothes hung on ropes between the trees, people bustled around two fires, and the scent of porridge and fish filled the air.
«Here we are,» Bugor gestured around his domain. «We'll have breakfast now, and then we'll talk.»
Another fire was arranged for them nearby. Over the meal, Ignatiy began:
«Don't worry, Leonid. Nothing will happen to you. I need a reliable assistant, someone competent. You'll stay here for a while, help me with a matter, and then we'll send you back, safe and sound.»
Mirachevsky was about to object, but Bugor didn't let him speak and continued:
«You'll stay for a while, get to know each other better, and then we'll decide how you can be of use. Don't try to escape; you won't find your way out alone, even if you think you've memorized the route. And I wouldn't advise it anyway – you won't escape my 'trotters' regardless.»
The days passed strangely. Bugor placed Leonid in his dugout, and they spent every moment together, even going hunting. Somehow, all the other men disappeared from the «village,» leaving only one who stuck closely to the engineer's side. The Bugrovites returned late at night with a bountiful catch.
Mirachevsky likened the entire situation to the books about Native Americans by James Fenimore Cooper, which he had adored in his childhood, and he felt like the Pathfinder in the Delaware village. During this time, he learned much about the leader of the «forest tribe» and even sympathized with him.
Ignatiy wasn't known for being talkative, but he shared that he came from a merchant family that had prospered in Siberia through the fur trade, building their wealth through hard work. During the Civil War, he lost his family, and when Soviet power was established in Irkutsk, he moved to the countryside with his wife, hoping for a peaceful life on the land. However, when the Bolsheviks arrived in the early twenties, he staunchly opposed the prodrazverstka (grain requisition), and they sought revenge. He lost the person he loved most, his Anastasia. He rallied his supporters and drove the Reds out of
