So Pahom was well contented, and everything would have been right if the
neighboring peasants would only not have trespassed on his corn-fields
and meadows. He appealed to them most civilly, but they still went on:
now the Communal herdsmen would let the village cows stray into his
meadows; then horses from the night pasture would get among his corn.
Pahom turned them out again and again, and forgave their owners, and
for a long time he forbore from prosecuting any one. But at last he
lost patience and complained to the District Court. He knew it was the
peasants' want of land, and no evil intent on their part, that caused
the trouble; but he thought:
"I cannot go on overlooking it, or they will destroy all I have. They
must be taught a lesson."
So he had them up, gave them one lesson, and then another, and two or
three of the peasants were fined. After a time Pahom's neighbours began
to bear him a grudge for this, and would now and then let their cattle
on his land on purpose. One peasant even got into Pahom's wood at night
and cut down five young lime trees for their bark. Pahom passing through
the wood one day noticed something white. He came nearer, and saw the
stripped trunks lying on the ground, and close by stood the stumps,
where the tree had been. Pahom was furious.
"If he had only cut one here and there it would have been bad enough,"
thought Pahom, "but the rascal has actually cut down a whole clump. If I
could only find out who did this, I would pay him out."
He racked his brains as to who it could be. Finally he decided: "It
must be Simon-no one else could have done it." Se he went to Simon's
homestead to have a look around, but he found nothing, and only had an
angry scene. However' he now felt more certain than ever that Simon had
done it, and he lodged a complaint. Simon was summoned. The case was
tried, and re-tried, and at the end of it all Simon was acquitted, there
being no evidence against him. Pahom felt still more aggrieved, and let
his anger loose upon the Elder and the Judges.
"You let thieves grease your palms," said he. "If you were honest folk
yourselves, you would not let a thief go free."
So Pahom quarrelled with the Judges and with his neighbors. Threats to
burn his building began to be uttered. So though Pahom had more land,
his place in the Commune was much worse than before.
About this time a rumor got about that many people were moving to new
parts.
"There's no need for me to leave my land," thought Pahom. "But some of
the others might leave our village, and then there would be more room
for us. I would take over their land myself, and make my estate a bit
bigger. I could then live more at ease. As it is, I am still too cramped
to be comfortable."
One day Pahom was sitting at home, when a peasant passing through the
village, happened to call in. He was allowed to stay the night, and
supper was given him. Pahom had a talk with this peasant and asked him
where he came from. The stranger answered that he came from beyond the
Volga, where he had been working. One word led to another, and the man
went on to say that many people were settling in those parts. He told
how some people from his village had settled there. They had joined the
Commune, and had had twenty-five acres per man granted them. The land
was so good, he said, that the rye sown on it grew as high as a horse,
and so thick that five cuts of a sickle made a sheaf. One peasant, he
said, had brought nothing with him but his bare hands, and now he had
six horses and two cows of his own.
Pahom's heart kindled with desire. He thought:
"Why should I suffer in this narrow hole, if one can live so well
elsewhere? I will sell my land and my homestead here, and with the money
I will start afresh over there and get everything new. In this crowded
place one is always having trouble. But I must first go and find out all
about it myself."
Towards summer he got ready and started. He went down the Volga on a
steamer to Samara, then walked another three hundred miles on foot, and
at last reached the place. It was just as the stranger had said. The
peasants had plenty of land: every man had twenty-five acres of Communal
land given him for his use, and any one who had money could buy,
besides, at fifty-cents an acre as much good freehold land as he wanted.
Having found out all he wished to know, Pahom returned home as autumn
came on, and began selling off his belongings. He sold his land at
a profit, sold his homestead and all his cattle, and withdrew from
membership of the Commune. He only waited till the spring, and then
started with his family for the new settlement.