Constantly higher and higher the sky lifted itself, wider and wider
spread the dawn, whiter and whiter grew the unpolished silver of the
dew, more and more lifeless the sickle of the moon, more vocal the
forest. The men began to arise; and at the stables belonging to the
bárin were heard with increasing frequency the whinnying of the horses,
the stamping of hoofs on the straw, and also the angry, shrill neighing
of the animals collecting together, and even disputing with each other
over something.
"Noo! you got time enough; mighty hungry, ain't you?" said the old
drover, quickly opening the creaking gates. "Where you going?" he
shouted, waving his hands at a mare which tried to run through the gate.
Nester, the drover, was dressed in a Cossack coat,[2] with a decorated
leather belt around his waist; his knout was slung over his shoulder,
and a handkerchief, containing some bread, was tied into his belt. In
his arms he carried a saddle and halter.
The horses were not in the least startled, nor did they show any
resentment, at the drover's sarcastic tone: they made believe that it
was all the same to them, and leisurely moved back from the gate,--all
except one old dark-bay mare, with a long flowing mane, who laid back
her ears and quickly turned around. At this opportunity a young mare,
who was standing behind, and had nothing at all to do with this,
whinnied, and began to kick at the first horse that she fell in with.
"No!" shouted the drover still more loudly and angrily, and turned to
the corner of the yard.[3]
Out of all the horses,--there must have been nearly a hundred--that
were moving off toward their breakfast, none manifested so little
impatience as a piebald gelding, which stood alone in one corner under
the shed, and gazed with half-shut eyes, and bit on the oaken lining of
the shed.
It is hard to say what enjoyment the piebald gelding got from this, but
his expression while doing so was solemn and thoughtful.
"Nonsense!" again cried the drover in the same tone, turning to him;
and going up to him he laid the saddle and shiny blanket on a pile of
manure near him.
The piebald gelding ceased biting, and looked long at Nester without
moving. He did not manifest any sign of mirth or anger or sullenness,
but only drew in his whole belly and sighed heavily, heavily, and
then turned away. The drover took him by the neck, and gave him his
breakfast.
"What are you sighing for?" asked Nester.
The horse switched his tail as though to say, "Well, it's nothing,
Nester." Nester put on the blanket and saddle, whereupon the horse
pricked up his ears, expressing as plainly as could be his disgust;
but he received nothing but execrations for this "rot," and then the
saddle-girth was pulled tight.
At this the gelding tried to swell out; but his mouth was thrust open,
and a knee was pressed into his side, so that he was forced to let out
his breath. Notwithstanding this, when they got the bit between his
teeth, he still pricked back his ears, and even turned round. Though he
knew that this was of no avail, yet he seemed to reckon it essential
to express his displeasure, and always showed it. When he was saddled,
he pawed with his swollen right leg, and began to champ the bit,--here
also for some special reason, because it was full time for him to know
that there could be no taste in bits.
Nester mounted the gelding by the short stirrups, unwound his knout,
freed his Cossack coat from under his knee, settled down in the
saddle in that position peculiar to coachmen, hunters, and drivers,
and twitched on the reins. The gelding lifted his head, showing a
disposition to go where he should be directed, but he stirred not from
the spot. He knew that before he went there would be much shouting on
the part of him who sat on his back, and many orders to be given to
Vaska, the other drover, and to the horses. In fact Nester began to
shout, "Vaska! ha, Vaska! have you let out any of the mares,--hey?
Where are you, you old devil? No-o! Are you asleep? Open the gate. Let
the mares go first," and so on.
The gates creaked. Vaska, morose, and still full of sleep, holding a
horse by the bridle, stood at the gate-post and let the horses out.
The horses, one after the other, gingerly stepping over the straw and
sniffing it, began to pass out,--the young fillies, the yearlings, the
little colts; while the mares with young stepped along needfully, one
at a time, avoiding all contact. The young fillies sometimes crowded in
two at once, three at once, throwing their heads across each other's
backs, and hitting their hoofs against the gates, each time receiving a
volley of abuse from the drovers. The colts sometimes kicked the mares
whom they did not know, and whinnied loudly in answer to the short
neighing of their mothers.
A young filly, full of wantonness, as soon as she got outside the
gate, tossed her head up and around, began to back, and whinnied,
but nevertheless did not venture to dash ahead of the old gray,
grain-bestrewed Zhuldiba, who, with a gentle but solid step, swinging
her belly from side to side, was always the dignified leader of the
other horses.
After a few moments the lively yard was left in melancholy loneliness;
the posts stood out in sadness under the empty sheds, and only the
sodden straw, soiled with dung, was to be seen.
Familiar as this picture of emptiness was to the piebald gelding, it
seemed to have a melancholy effect upon him. He slowly, as though
making a bow, lowered and lifted his head, sighed as deeply as the
tightly drawn girth permitted, and dragging his somewhat bent and
decrepit legs, he started off after the herd, carrying the old Nester
on his bony back.
"I know now. As soon as we get out on the road, he will go to work to
make a light, and smoke his wooden pipe with its copper mounting and
chain," thought the gelding. "I am glad of this, because it is early in
the morning and the dew is on the grass, and this odor is agreeable
to me, and brings up many pleasant recollections. I am sorry only that
when the old man has his pipe in his mouth he always becomes excited,
gets to imagining things, and sits on one side, far over on one side,
and on that side it always hurts. However, God be with him. It's no new
thing for me to suffer for the sake of others. I have even come to find
some equine satisfaction in this. Let him play that he's cock of the
walk, poor fellow; but it's for his own pleasure that he looks so big,
since no one sees him at all. Let him ride sidewise," said the horse to
himself; and, stepping gingerly on his crooked legs, he walked along
the middle of the road.
[Footnote 1: Dedicated to the memory of M. A. Stakhovitch, the
originator of the subject, which was given by his brother to Count
Tolstoi.]
[Footnote 2: _kasakín._]
[Footnote 3: _dvor_.]