“Who’s that, who shouted?” roared the major, rushing in the direction from which the voice came. “Is that you, Rastorguyev? You shouted? To the guard-house!”
Rastorguyev, a tall, puffy-faced young fellow, stepped out and walked at once towards the guard-house. It was not he who had spoken, but, as he had been pitched upon, he went.
“You don’t know when you are well off!” the major howled after him. “Ah, you fat-face! I’ll find you all out! Those who are satisfied, step forward!”
“We are satisfied, your honour!” murmured some dozens of gloomy voices; the rest remained stubbornly silent. But that was enough for the major. It was evidently to his advantage to end the scene as quickly as possible, and to end it somehow pacifically.
“Ah, now all are satisfied!” he said hurriedly. “I saw that . . . I knew it. It’s the work of agitators! There must be agitators among them!” he went on, addressing Dyatlov. “We must go into that more carefully. But now . . . now it’s time for work. Beat the drum!”
He was present himself at the telling off of convicts to their different tasks. The convicts dispersed in mournful silence to their work, glad at any rate to be out of his sight as soon as possible. But after they had gone, the major at once went to the guard-house and punished the “ringleaders,” not very cruelly, however. He hurried over it, in fact. One of them, we were told afterwards, begged his pardon, and was at once let off. It was evident that the major was not perfectly at his ease, and was perhaps even a little scared. A complaint is always a ticklish matter, and though the convicts’ protest could hardly be called a complaint, because it was presented not to a higher authority, but to the major himself, yet it was awkward, it was not the right thing. What disconcerted him most was that almost all the prisoners had taken part in the protest. He must suppress it at all costs. They soon released the ringleaders. Next day the food was better, but the improvement did not last long. For some days afterwards the major visited the prison more frequently and found fault more frequently. Our sergeant went about looking anxious and perplexed, as though he could not get over his amazement. As for the convicts they could not settle down for a long time afterwards, but they were not so much excited as before, they were in a state of dumb perplexity and bewilderment. Some of them were deeply despondent. Others
