“We travelled by night, resting all day in the woods. At dawn we reached Tarkhánof’s place. A new house stood in the field; it was fenced in, and the gates were closed. Judging from the description that it was the one Burán had told us about, we approached and knocked softly. Someone was starting a fire inside. ‘Who is there, and whence do you come?’ a man’s voice called out.
“ ‘We are vagrants,’ we replied. ‘Burán sends his regards to Stakhéy Mítritch.’
“Stakhéy Mítritch, Tarkhánof’s head clerk, happened to be away at this time, and in his absence had left his assistant in charge, telling him, in case any vagrants should arrive from Saghálin, to provide them with boots and sheepskin coats, and to give them five rubles apiece. Furthermore, to furnish them with as much linen and provisions as they required. ‘No matter how many there may be, provide enough for all. Get your workmen together as witnesses, so that your accounts will be in proper shape.’
“The news of Saltánof’s fate had reached here also, and the clerk was frightened when he saw us.
“ ‘Are you the men who killed Saltánof?’ he said. ‘You will have to look out for yourselves.’
“ ‘Whether we did or not, that is not the subject we wish to discuss. What we would like to know is whether we can expect any assistance from you. We are requested to convey Burán’s regards to Stakhéy Mítritch.’
“ ‘And where is Burán himself? Did he return to the island?’
“ ‘Yes, he returned to the island, and he wishes you a long life.’13
“ ‘May he inherit the kingdom of heaven! … He was a worthy vagrant, although perhaps not very shrewd. Stakhéy Mítritch often spoke of him. I dare say, he will have his name put down for prayers. What was his Christian name? Do you know, boys?’
“ ‘No, we do not. He was always called Burán. Most likely, he had forgotten it himself; of what use is a name to a vagrant?’
“ ‘Now you see the result of such a life as yours! Is it not sad that when the priest wishes to pray for you he cannot utter your name. … The old man may have had relations in his native land, … brothers and sisters, or perhaps even children. …’
“ ‘Very likely. Though a vagrant discards his name, he is born into the world like the rest of humanity. …’
“ ‘A hard life, indeed!’
“ ‘None worse. We beg the food that we eat and wear clothes discarded like our own names. Nor is every vagrant fortunate enough to be buried. If he should happen to die in the wilderness, his body would become a prey for birds or beasts. … Even his bones are liable to be scattered by the wolves. What could be harder!’
“Such talk made us sad, … and, though we had said all these things chiefly to touch the sympathy of the clerk—since the more pitiful the story, the more the Siberian is likely to give you—we knew very well that we had given a true and unvarnished account of ourselves. We could not help thinking how this man, after hearing our sad story, would make the sign of the cross and go to bed … in warmth and comfort, he had no one to fear! … Whereas we should have to wander in the woods at dead of night, and, like swamp-imps, hide from all Christians at the first crowing of the cock.
“ ‘Well, boys,’ the clerk said at last, ‘it is time for me to go to bed. I will give you twenty kopeks extra; take it and go your way. I shall not wake all the workmen, but I will call three of my most reliable ones as witnesses. I suspect I shall get myself into trouble on your account.
“ ‘Now, look out. I advise you to avoid Nikoláevsk. I was there not long ago; the isprávnik14 is an energetic man, and has issued orders to detain all travellers, no matter where they happen to be found. He is reported to have said: “I will not let a magpie fly by nor a rabbit pass nor a beast escape me! much less will I suffer those Saghálinian fellows to slip through my fingers.” You will be lucky if you manage to elude him; and be sure on no account to enter the town.’
“He gave us the usual quantity of provision, including fish, also the twenty kopeks which he had promised. Then he made the sign of the cross, went into the house, and locked the door. The fire went out, and the men went to bed. It was but a short time before dawn when, with heavy hearts, we started once more on our journey.
“How often have we felt thus! On dark nights, in deep forests, drenched by the rain, buffeted by the wind, with no spot on earth where we could seek refuge or shelter! … Still, one longs to see one’s mother-country. And yet, if ever a man reaches it—where every dog knows him to be a vagrant, and where officials are vigilant and numerous—how long do you suppose he would remain at large in his own native place? … The prison awaits him! … At times even the thought of a prison was a comfort, and that’s a fact! So it was on that night as we
