One of the drivers, a very tall man, got out of the sledge, silently detached his three horses, saddled and bridled one of them, and, crunching the snow beneath him, disappeared in the direction of his comrade. We, with the two other horses, went after the courier's troika, which, ringing its bell, set off in front at full gallop; we just let ourselves go without troubling any more about the road.
"A pretty way of catching them!" said my driver, alluding to the other driver, who had gone off after the horses; "he'll never catch' em, and he's leading the spare horse to a place he'll never get him out of again."
Ever since my driver had begun to go back, he had become in better spirits and more inclined to be talkative, which I, of course, did not fail to take advantage of as, so far, I had no desire to sleep. I began to ask him all about himself and whence he came, and soon found out that he was a fellow-countryman, hailing from Tula country, being a small proprietor in the village of Kirpechny; that their land was of very little good to them and had quite ceased to produce grain since the cholera visitation; that there were two brothers at home, while a third had enlisted as a soldier; that the supply of bread would not hold out till Christmas, and they had to hire themselves out to make more money; that the younger brother was master in the house because he was married, while my friend was a widower; that an artel, or society of drivers, went forth from their village every year; that though he was not a coachman by profession he served at the post-station
55
