BIRYUK
'Ulita,' she said, her mournful little face drooping more than ever.
The forester came in and sat down on the bench.
'The storm's passing over,' he observed, after a brief silence; 'if you wish it, I will guide you out of the forest.'
I got up; Biryuk took his gun and examined the firepan.
'What's that for?' I inquired.
'There's mischief in the forest. . . . They're cutting a tree down on Mares' Ravine,' he added, in reply to my look of inquiry.
'Could you hear it from here?'
'I can hear it outside.'
We went out together. The rain had ceased. Heavy masses of storm-cloud were still huddled in the distance; from time to time there were long flashes of lightning; but here and there overhead the dark blue sky was already visible; stars twinkled through the swiftly flying clouds. The outline of the trees, drenched with rain, and stirred by the wind, began to stand out in the darkness. We listened. The forester took off his cap and bent his head. . . . 'Th . . . there!' he said suddenly, and he stretched out his hand: 'see what a night he's pitched on.' I had heard nothing but the rustle of the leaves. Biryuk led the mare out of the shed.' But, perhaps,' he added aloud, 'this way I shall miss him.' 'I'll go with you . . . if you like?' 'Certainly,' he answered, and he backed the horse in again;
253
