IVAN MIRONOV had become a very clever, fearless and successful
horse-thief. Afimia, his wife, who at first used to abuse him for his
evil ways, as she called it, was now quite content and felt proud of her
husband, who possessed a new sheepskin coat, while she also had a warm
jacket and a new fur cloak.
In the village and throughout the whole district every one knew quite
well that Ivan Mironov was at the bottom of all the horse-stealing; but
nobody would give him away, being afraid of the consequences. Whenever
suspicion fell on him, he managed to clear his character. Once during
the night he stole horses from the pasture ground in the village
Kolotovka. He generally preferred to steal horses from landowners or
tradespeople. But this was a harder job, and when he had no chance of
success he did not mind robbing peasants too. In Kolotovka he drove off
the horses without making sure whose they were. He did not go himself
to the spot, but sent a young and clever fellow, Gerassim, to do the
stealing for him. The peasants only got to know of the theft at dawn;
they rushed in all directions to hunt for the robbers. The horses,
meanwhile, were hidden in a ravine in the forest lands belonging to the
state.
Ivan Mironov intended to leave them there till the following night, and
then to transport them with the utmost haste a hundred miles away to
a man he knew. He visited Gerassim in the forest, to see how he was
getting on, brought him a pie and some vodka, and was returning home
by a side track in the forest where he hoped to meet nobody. But by
ill-luck, he chanced on the keeper of the forest, a retired soldier.
“I say! Have you been looking for mushrooms?” asked the soldier.
“There were none to be found,” answered Ivan Mironov, showing the basket
of lime bark he had taken with him in case he might want it.
“Yes, mushrooms are scarce this summer,” said the soldier. He stood
still for a moment, pondered, and then went his way. He clearly saw that
something was wrong. Ivan Mironov had no business whatever to take early
morning walks in that forest. The soldier went back after a while and
looked round. Suddenly he heard the snorting of horses in the ravine. He
made his way cautiously to the place whence the sounds came. The grass
in the ravine was trodden down, and the marks of horses’ hoofs were
clearly to be seen. A little further he saw Gerassim, who was sitting
and eating his meal, and the horses tied to a tree.
The soldier ran to the village and brought back the bailiff, a police
officer, and two witnesses. They surrounded on three sides the spot
where Gerassim was sitting and seized the man. He did not deny anything;
but, being drunk, told them at once how Ivan Mironov had given him
plenty of drink, and induced him to steal the horses; he also said that
Ivan Mironov had promised to come that night in order to take the horses
away. The peasants left the horses and Gerassim in the ravine, and
hiding behind the trees prepared to lie in ambush for Ivan Mironov. When
it grew dark, they heard a whistle. Gerassim answered it with a similar
sound. The moment Ivan Mironov descended the slope, the peasants
surrounded him and brought him back to the village. The next morning
a crowd assembled in front of the bailiff’s cottage. Ivan Mironov was
brought out and subjected to a close examination. Stepan Pelageushkine,
a tall, stooping man with long arms, an aquiline nose, and a gloomy
face was the first to put questions to him. Stepan had terminated
his military service, and was of a solitary turn of mind. When he had
separated from his father, and started his own home, he had his first
experience of losing a horse. After that he worked for two years in
the mines, and made money enough to buy two horses. These two had been
stolen by Ivan Mironov.
“Tell me where my horses are!” shouted Stepan, pale with fury,
alternately looking at the ground and at Ivan Mironov’s face.
Ivan Mironov denied his guilt. Then Stepan aimed so violent a blow at
his face that he smashed his nose and the blood spurted out.
“Tell the truth, I say, or I’ll kill you!”
Ivan Mironov kept silent, trying to avoid the blows by stooping. Stepan
hit him twice more with his long arm. Ivan Mironov remained silent,
turning his head backwards and forwards.
“Beat him, all of you!” cried the bailiff, and the whole crowd rushed
upon Ivan Mironov. He fell without a word to the ground, and then
shouted,--“Devils, wild beasts, kill me if that’s what you want! I am
not afraid of you!”
Stepan seized a stone out of those that had been collected for the
purpose, and with a heavy blow smashed Ivan Mironov’s head.