"Do as you please, but I will not go any farther; my legs won't carry me."
Zhilin tried to persuade him.
"No," says he, "I won't go, I can't go."
Zhilin grew angry; he threatens him, he scolds him.
"Then I will go on without you. Good-by!"
Kostuilin jumped up and followed. They went four versts farther. The fog
began to grow thicker in the forest. Nothing could be seen before them; the
stars were barely visible.
Suddenly they hear the tramping of a horse just in front of them; they can
hear his shoes striking on the stones.
Zhilin threw himself down on his belly, and tried to listen by laying his
ear to the ground.
"Yes, it is,--it is some one on horseback coming in our direction."
They slipped off to one side of the road, crouched down in the bushes, and
waited. Zhilin crept close to the path, and looked.
He sees a mounted Tatar riding along, driving a cow. The man is muttering
to himself. When the Tatar had ridden by, Zhilin returned to Kostuilin.
"Well, God has saved us. Up with you! Come along!"
Kostuilin tried to rise, and fell back.
"I can't; by God, I can't. My strength is all gone."
The man was as though he were drunk. He was all of a sweat; and as they
were surrounded by the cold fog, and his feet were torn, he was quite used
up. Zhilin tried to lift him by main force. Then Kostuilin cried, "_Aï!_ it
hurt."
Zhilin was frightened to death.
"What are you screaming for? Don't you know that Tatar is near? He will
hear you." But he said to himself, "Now he is really played out, what can I
do with him? I can't abandon a comrade. Now," says he, "get up; climb on my
back. I will carry you if you can't walk any longer." He took Kostuilin on
his shoulders, holding him by the thighs, and went along the path with his
burden. "Only," says he, "don't put your hands on my throat, for Christ's
sake! Lean on my shoulders."
It was hard for Zhilin. His feet were also bloody, and he was weary. He
stopped, and made it a little easier for himself by setting Kostuilin down,
and getting him better mounted. Then he went on again.
Evidently the Tatar had heard them when Kostuilin screamed. Zhilin caught
the sound of some one following them and shouting in his language. Zhilin
put into the bushes. The Tatar aimed his gun; he fired it off, but missed;
began to whine in his native tongue, and galloped up the path.
"Well," says Zhilin, "we are lost, brother. The dog,--he will be right back
with a band of Tatars on our track.... If we don't succeed in putting three
versts between us, we are lost." And he thinks to himself, "The devil take
it, that I had to bring this clod along with me! Alone, I should have got
there long ago."