XIX.
The mist had lifted, so that the moist reed thatches
could be seen, and now was changed into dew that dampened
the road and the grass near the fences. The smoke
rose in clouds from the chimneys. The people were leaving
the village, some to go to their work, others to the
river, and others again to the cordon. The hunters
walked together over the damp, grass-grown path. The
dogs ran, wagging their tails and looking at their master,
on both sides of them. Millions of gnats hovered in the
air, and pursued the hunters, covering their backs, eyes,
and hands. The air was fragrant with grass and the
dampness of the woods. Olénin continually looked back
at the ox-cart, in which Maryánka sat, urging on the oxen
with a stick.
Everything was quiet. The sounds of the village, audible before, no longer reached the hunters; only the dogs crashed through the thorn bushes, and now and then a bird uttered a sound. Olénin knew that the woods were dangerous, that abréks were always concealed in such places. He also knew that for a man on foot a gun was a great protection in the forest. Not that he was afraid, but he felt that any other person would feel afraid; and, looking with strained attention into the misty, damp forest, and listening to the occasional faint sounds, he fingered his gun and experienced a novel and pleasant sensation.
Uncle Eróshka walked ahead and stopped at every
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