great pleasure to drink tea in the woods, on the grass, and, in general, in a spot where no one ever drank tea.
Túrka rode up to the grove, stopped, attentively listened to papa's minute instructions as to where to line up and where to come out (however, he never complied with these instructions, but did as he thought best), unloosed the dogs, fixed the braces, mounted his horse, and, whistling, disappeared behind the young birch-trees. The loosed hounds first expressed their pleasure by wagging their tails, then shook themselves, straightened themselves, and, scenting their way and shaking their tails, ran in different directions.
"Have you a handkerchief?" asked papa.
I took it out of my pocket and showed it to him.
"Well, so, take this gray dog on your handkerchief."
"Zhirán?" said I, with the look of a connoisseur.
"Yes! and run along the road. When you come to a clearing, stop. And look out; do not come back to me without a hare!"
I tied my handkerchief around Zhirán's shaggy neck, and ran headlong to the place indicated. Papa laughed and cried after me:
"Hurry up, hurry up, or you will be late!"
Zhirán kept stopping all the time, pricking his ears, and listening to the calls of the hunters. I did not have enough strength to pull him off, and I began to cry, "Atú! atú!" Then Zhirán tugged so hard that I barely could hold him back and fell down several times before I could reach the place. Having found a shady, level spot at the foot of a tall oak-tree, I lay down in the grass, placed Zhirán near me, and began to wait. My imagination, as generally happens under such circumstances, far outran the actual facts; I imagined that I was baiting the third hare, whereas it was only the first hound that was heard in the woods. Túrka's voice was heard through the forest ever louder and more animated;
