"Come! A last effort!" And he plunged into the river, which here was half a verst in width.
It would have been difficult to stand against the current--indeed, Michael's horse could get no footing.

He must therefore swim across the river, although it was rapid as a torrent.

Even to attempt it showed Michael's marvelous courage.

The soldiers reached the bank, but hesitated to plunge in.
The pendja-baschi seized his musket and took aim at Michael, whom he could see in the middle of the stream.

The shot was fired, and Michael's horse, struck in the side, was borne away by the current.
His master, speedily disentangling himself from his stirrups, struck out boldly for the shore.