Zhilin knew nothing of medicine. He went, looked at the sick man, said to
himself, "Perhaps he will get well, anyway." He went into the barn, took
water and sand, and shook them up together. He whispered a few words to the
water in presence of the Tatars, and gave it to the sick man to drink.
Fortunately for him, the Tatar got well.
Zhilin had by this time learned something of their language. And some of
the Tatars became accustomed to him; when they wanted him, they called him
by name, "Iván, Iván;" but others always looked at him as though he was a
wild beast.
The red-bearded Tatar did not like Zhilin; when he saw him, he scowled and
turned away, or else insulted him.
There was another old man among them; he did not live in the aul, but came
down from the mountain. Zhilin never saw him except when he came to the
mosque to prayer. He was of small stature; on his cap, he wore a white
handkerchief as an ornament. His beard and mustaches were trimmed; they
were white as wool, and his face was wrinkled and brick-red. His nose was
hooked like a hawk's, and his eyes were gray and cruel, and he had no teeth
except two tusks.
He used to come in his turban, leaning on his staff, and glare like a
wolf; whenever he saw Zhilin, he would snort, and turn his back.
One time Zhilin went to the mountain to see where the old man lived. He
descended a narrow path, and sees a little stone-walled garden. On the
other side of the wall are cherry-trees, peach-trees, and a little hut with
a flat roof.
He went nearer; he sees bee-hives made of straw, and bees flying and
humming around them. And the old man is on his knees before the hives,
hammering something.
Zhilin raised himself up, so as to get a better view, and his clog made a
noise.
The old man looked up,--squealed; he pulled his pistol from his belt, and
fired at Zhilin, who had barely time to hide behind the wall.
The old man came to make his complaint to Zhilin's master. Abdul called him
in, grinned, and asked him:
"Why did you go to the old man's?"
"I didn't do him any harm. I wanted to see how he lived."
Abdul explained it to the old man; but he was angry, hissed, mumbled
something, showed his tusks, and threatened Zhilin with his hands.
Zhilin did not understand it all; but he made out that the old man wished
Abdul to kill the two Russians, and not have them in the aul.
The old man went off.
Zhilin began to ask his master, "Who is that old man?" And the master
replied,--
"He is a great man. He used to be our first _jigit_; he has killed many
Russians. He used to be rich. He had three wives and eight sons. All lived
in one village. The Russians came, destroyed his village, and killed seven
of his sons. One son was left, and surrendered to the Russians. The old man
went and gave himself up to the Russians also. He lived among them three
months, found his son, killed him with his own hand, and escaped. Since
that time he has stopped fighting. He went to Mecca to pray to God, and
that's why he wears a turban. Whoever has been to Mecca is called a
_hadji_, and wears a _chalma_. But he does not love you Russians. He has
bade me kill you, but I don't intend to kill you. I have paid out money for
you, and besides, Iván, I have come to like you. And so far from wishing to
kill you, I would rather not let you go from me at all, if I had not given
my word."
He laughed, and began to repeat in Russian, "_Tvoyá Iván, khorósh, moyá,
Abdul, khorósh._"