"_Háït! háït!_ Ulyashin."
But Zhilin scratched the dog behind the ears. The dog makes no more sound,
rubs against his legs, and wags his tail.
They wait behind the corner.
All became silent again; the only sound was the bleating of a sheep in the
fold, and far below them the water roaring over the pebbles.
It is dark, but the sky is studded with stars. Over the mountain the young
moon hung red, with its horns turned upward.
In the valleys a mist was rising, white as milk. Zhilin started up, and
said to his comrade in Tatar, "Well, brother, _aï-da_!"
They set out again.
But as they get under way, they hear the call of the mulla on the
minaret:--
"_Allah! Bis'm Allah! el Rakhman!_"
"That means, the people will be going to the mosque."
Again they sat down and hid under the wall.
They sat there long, waiting until the people should pass. Again it grew
still.
"Now for our fate!"
They crossed themselves, and started.
They went across the dvor, and down the steep bank to the stream, crossed
the stream, proceeded along the valley. The mist was thick, and closed in
all around them, but above their heads the stars could still be seen.
Zhilin used the stars to guide him which way to go. It was cool in the
mist, it was easy walking, only their boots were troublesome,--they were
worn at the heels. Zhilin took his off, threw them away, and walked
barefoot. He sprang from stone to stone, and kept glancing at the stars.
Kostuilin began to grow weary. "Go slower," says he; "my boots chafe me, my
whole foot is raw."
"Then take them off, it will be easier."
Kostuilin began to go barefoot, but that was still worse; he kept scraping
his feet on the stones and having to stop.
Zhilin said to him, "You may cut your feet, but you will save your life;
but if you are caught they will kill you, which would be worse."
Kostuilin said nothing, but crept along, groaning. For a long time they
went down the valley. Suddenly they hear dogs barking at the right. Zhilin
halted, looked around, climbed up the bank, and felt about with his hands.
"_Ekh!_" says he, "we have made a mistake; we have gone too far to the
right. Here is one of the enemy's villages. I could see it from the hill.
We must go back to the left, up the mountain. There must be a forest
there."
But Kostuilin objected. "Just wait a little while, let us get breath. My
feet are all blood."
"Eh, brother! they will get well. You should walk more lightly. This way."
And Zhilin turned back toward the left, and up hill toward the forest.
Kostuilin kept halting and groaning. Zhilin tried to hush him up, and still
hastened on.
They climbed the mountain. And there they found the forest. They entered
it; their clothes were all torn to pieces on the thorns. They found a
little path through the woods. They walked along it.
"Halt!"
There was the sound of hoofs on the path. They stopped to listen. It
sounded like the tramping of a horse: then it also stopped. They set out
once more; again the tramping hoofs. When they stopped, it stopped.
Zhilin crept ahead, and investigated a light spot on the path.
Something is standing there. It may be a horse, or it may not, but on it
there is something strange, not at all like a man.