'What's one to say. Daddy?' replied Lukashka. 'It seems we are not the same sort of men as you were.'
'You're a fool. Mark, a fool! 'Not the same sort of men!'' retorted the old man, mimicking the Cossack lad. 'I was not that sort of Cossack at your age.'
'How's that?' asked Lukashka.
The old man shook his head contemptuously.
'Daddy Eroshka was simple; he did not grudge anything! That's why I was kunak with all Chechnya. A kunak would come to visit me and I'd make him drunk with vodka and make him happy and put him to sleep with me, and when I went to see him I'd take him a present—a dagger! That's the way it is done, and not as you do nowadays: the only amusement lads have now is to crack seeds and spit out the shells!' the old man finished contemptuously, imitating the present-day Cossacks cracking seeds and spitting out the shells.
'Yes, I know,' said Lukashka; 'that's so!'
'If you wish to be a fellow of the right sort, be a brave and not a peasant! Because even a peasant can buy a horse—pay the money and take the horse.'
They were silent for a while.
'Well, of course it's dull both in the village and the cordon, Daddy: but there's nowhere one can go for a bit of sport. All our fellows are so timid. Take Nazarka. The other day when we went to the Tartar village, Girey Khan asked us to come to Nogay to take some horses, but no one went, and how was I to go alone?'
'And what of Daddy? Do you think I am quite dried up? … No, I'm not dried up. Let me have a horse and I'll be off to Nogay at once.'
'What's the good of talking nonsense!' said Luke. 'You'd better tell me what to do about Girey Khan. He says, 'Only bring horses to the Terek, and then even if you bring a whole stud I'll find a place for them.' You see he's also a shaven-headed Tartar—how's one to believe him?'
'You may trust Girey Khan, all his kin were good people. His father too was a faithful kunak. But listen to Daddy and I won't teach you wrong: make him take an oath, then it will be all right. And if you go with him, have your pistol ready all the same, especially when it comes to dividing up the horses. I was nearly killed that way once by a Chechen. I wanted ten rubles from him for a horse. Trusting is all right, but don't go to sleep without a gun.' Lukashka listened attentively to the old man.
'I say. Daddy, have you any stone-break grass?' he asked after a pause.
'No, I haven't any, but I'll teach you how to get it. You're a good lad and won't forget the old man…. Shall I tell you?'
'Tell me, Daddy.'
'You know a tortoise? She's a devil, the tortoise is!'
'Of course I know!'
'Find her nest and fence it round so that she can't get in. Well, she'll come, go round it, and then will go off to find the stone-break grass and will bring some along and destroy the fence. Anyhow next morning come in good time, and where the fence is broken there you'll find the stone-break grass lying. Take it wherever you like. No lock and no bar will be able to stop you.'
'Have you tried it yourself. Daddy?'
'As for trying, I have not tried it, but I was told of it by good people. I used only one charm: that was to repeat the Pilgrim rhyme when mounting my horse; and no one ever killed me!'
'What is the Pilgrim rhyme. Daddy?'
'What, don't you know it? Oh, what people! You're right to ask Daddy.
Well, listen, and repeat after me:
'Hail! Ye, living in Sion, This is your King, Our steeds we shall sit on, Sophonius is weeping. Zacharias is speaking, Father Pilgrim, Mankind ever loving.'
'Kind ever loving,' the old man repeated. 'Do you know it now? Try it.'
Lukashka laughed.
'Come, Daddy, was it that that hindered their killing you? Maybe it just happened so!'
'You've grown too clever! You learn it all, and say it. It will do you no harm. Well, suppose you have sung 'Pilgrim', it's all right,' and the old man himself began laughing. 'But just one thing, Luke, don't you go to Nogay!'
'Why?'
'Times have changed. You are not the same men. You've become rubbishy Cossacks! And see how many Russians have come down on us! You'd get to prison. Really, give it up! Just as if you could! Now Girchik and I, we used…'
And the old man was about to begin one of his endless tales, but
Lukashka glanced at the window and interrupted him.
'It is quite light. Daddy. It's time to be off. Look us up some day.'
'May Christ save you! I'll go to the officer; I promised to take him out shooting. He seems a good fellow.'
Chapter XVII
From Eroshka's hut Lukashka went home. As he returned, the dewy mists were rising from the ground and enveloped the village. In various places the cattle, though out of sight, could be heard beginning to stir. The cocks called to one another with increasing frequency and insistence. The air was becoming more transparent, and the villagers were getting up. Not till he was close to it could Lukishka discern the fence of his yard, all wet with dew, the porch of the hut, and the open shed. From the misty yard he heard the sound of an axe chopping wood. Lukashka entered the hut. His mother was up, and stood at the oven throwing wood into it. His little sister was still lying in bed asleep.
'Well, Lukashka, had enough holiday-making?' asked his mother softly.
'Where did you spend the night?'
'I was in the village,' replied her son reluctantly, reaching for his musket, which he drew from its cover and examined carefully.
His mother swayed her head.
Lukashka poured a little gunpowder onto the pan, took out a little bag from which he drew some empty cartridge cases which he began filling, carefully plugging each one with a ball wrapped in a rag. Then, having tested the loaded cartridges with his teeth and examined them, he put down the bag.
'I say, Mother, I told you the bags wanted mending; have they been done?' he asked.
'Oh yes, our dumb girl was mending something last night. Why, is it time for you to be going back to the cordon? I haven't seen anything of you!'
'Yes, as soon as I have got ready I shall have to go,' answered
Lukashka, tying up the gunpowder. 'And where is our dumb one? Outside?'
'Chopping wood, I expect. She kept fretting for you. 'I shall not see him at all!' she said. She puts her hand to her face like this, and clicks her tongue and presses her hands to her heart as much as to say—'sorry.' Shall I call her in? She understood all about the abrek.'
'Call her,' said Lukashka. 'And I had some tallow there; bring it: I must grease my sword.'
The old woman went out, and a few minutes later Lukashka's dumb sister came up the creaking steps and
