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 the village, after which he had no choice but to retreat into the forests.
Leonid was deeply moved by this story. In turn, he shared his own childhood and youth experiences, recounting the events of the Civil War in the Poltava region. A trusting bond formed between them quickly, and then Ignatiy produced a map. Before his death, a White Guard officer who hadjoined Bugor's detachment gave him this map. Supposedly, it marked the location of a hidden cache of gold from the Yakut mines.
«I am literate, but I cannot read maps. Besides, it's not clear where this cache is located,» Bugor admitted.
«And what will you do with it if you find it?» Leonid inquired.
«I'll head to Manchurl in China. There's no life for me here,» Bugor responded. He added, «You'll get a share, of course.»
But Mirachevsky merely waved his hand; he was already engrossed in studying the worn map and felt nothing but familiar excitement. He spread out his own map on the table and attempted to align the two images. However, aside from the difference in scale, the markings were carelessly done, unusual for an officer.
The next day, from early morning, he was bent over the scheme.
«Does it make any sense?» Ignatiy asked anxiously, observing the frowning engineer.
Leonid shook his head, «Not yet. You can see the state of the paper – it's tattered, not a proper plan. Half of it is indecipherable.»
He spent the entire day grappling with the puzzle, trying to unlock its secrets. Yet, the key eluded him…
The following morning felt unusually tranquil. As Leonid emerged from the dugout, he realized he had overslept (his mind had been preoccupied with the treasure for a long time), and the Bugrovites had gone fishing again. Not far away, the «spy» sat perched on a stump, squinting at the sun. After washing his face and savoring a cup of fragrant herbal tea, he resumed his work, lingering a bit longer at the entrance.
«What a day! It's a shame I can't walk around with this map in public,» he mused.
Late at night, as he heard the excited voices of women outside and the grumbling of his guards, Mirachevsky realized that the detachment hadn't returned yet, which for some reason worried those left in the camp. Quietly, he went to bed, unsure of how far Ignatiy had taken his men.
However, the squad didn't show up the next day. That's when Leonid's gut told him to act.
Yet, he hesitated for some reason. It felt wrong to leave like this, without saying goodbye and without explaining himself to Bugor. There was something between them: if not friendship, then mutual understanding. Besides, last night he had finally realized that the officer's map was worthless – it was impossible to determine the actual location of the supposed treasure from it. The experienced cartographer knew this better than anyone else. «But Ignatiy doesn't know about it yet,» Mirachevsky agonized.
Suddenly, a thought pierced him, causing him to view both his «jailer» and the situation differently: «What if Bugor thinks that I've deciphered the scheme and want to claim the gold for myself? What then? He'll find me anywhere… and maybe not just me… the girls…» Leonid even jumped up, hitting his head on the low ceiling. «No, you can't think of a man like that! Although…» Saveliy's stories came to mind.
However, there were more weighty circumstances. First, his family was waiting for him: Irina, Olga (she was probably already worried). Secondly, staying with the bandits for too long could lead to accusations of complicity in the future – times were such that even the slightest suspicion could lead to an accusation. And that could affect his family.
The final argument proved decisive.
Leonid swiftly gathered himself up, slipped the plan under Ignatiy's pillow, and, seizing the moment when the women were cooking and the man was making a fire, quietly slipped into the thicket. The seasoned engineer was well-oriented and remembered the direction. The main thing was to get to the river (and even more importantly, not encounter a wild animal – of course, he no longer had a gun), and from there, he could find his way to his party's last camp along the riverbed. However, in the dense forest, everything looked quite different from the map, and he had to travel through the taiga, getting scratched in the process.
Now, the route was clear: to the parking spot, and from there, to the Lena. Yet, it soon became clear that walking along the higher bank was impossible due to slippery boulders, sharp stones, and thorny bushes that extended all the way down to the water, making it almost impassable. Crossing to the other side of the shallow yet swift rivulet seemed risky, but there was no choice. Without taking a step in the water, Leonid stepped (there were boulders underwater as well), painfully hitting his knee. Fortunately, he realized that he could still swim, and he had to do it quickly – the icy water was cramping his legs. Upon reaching the shore, he was shaking. He attempted to run to warm up, but his bruised knee let him down. He wanted to walk straight down the fairly gentle bank, in the sunshine, but he didn't dare yet, fearing pursuit.
Mirachevsky had only a slice of bread, which he had stuffed into his rucksack at the last moment. There were still unripe berries and fish in the calmer part of the river (provided he dried the matches well). When he reached the camping spot, he realized that he needed to take a break, rest well, and eat – it was unknown how many days he would have to hike to the «Big River» with a sore leg.
… On the fourth day, he heard faint wood chop sounds. «What? Am I daydreaming?» The sounds disappeared, but after a while, they reappeared, and now the clatter of an axe could be distinctly heard. The men, who were clearing the area, were alerted when they saw a dirty, ragged man wearing glasses:
«White? An officer?» The bald-headed man squinted at him.
«Why, Victor, the whites have long been gone,» laughed the russet-haired boy, «the man must have lost his way.»
They took him to the nearest village. The local authorities there, after clarifying all the circumstances, provided him with assistance to get to the Lena, from where Leonid hired a boat all the way to Kirensk.
Irina did not immediately recognize her beloved father. Olga, usually reserved, burst into tears, embracing her gaunt husband. Kurekhin and Saveliy quickly arrived as news spread rapidly in small towns. The chairman warmly shook Leonids hand for a long time, and the guide clapped him on the shoulder in a delighted manner, saying:
«Well done, Chief, well done!» and turning to the chairman, «I told you he's resilient. Smart and resilient!»
It turned out that the engineer had been absent for more than three weeks. Saveliy explained everything to everyone, just as they were told, except for Kurekhin. He immediately informed him of what had happened. They now had a better idea of where to search for Bugor's gang (the word «gang» suddenly struck Mirachevsky). The operation was conducted with utmost secrecy, as it was believed that Ignatiy had many supporters in every settlement.
«Where is he now?» Leonid asked.
«Such an important figure was taken to Irkutsk; the investigator came all the way from there.»
Leonid's countenance darkened; he had indeed become friends with his «jailer,» and