over them with the help of his hands, came up to the sledge, and sat down on the box-seat.
It was an old acquaintance of Vasily Andreich, the muzhik Isai, well known all about those parts as a horse-thief.
"Why, Vasily Andreich! where on earth are you off to?" said Isai, sending a whiff of vodka in the direction of Nikita.
"We are going to Goryachkina."
"You have come out of your way then. You must go by way of Malakhovo then."
"Needs must then. I suppose we are a little out of it," said Vasily Andreich, stopping the horse.
"That's a good little nag of yours," said Isai, looking at the horse, and drawing his hand beneath the tail, slightly loosening the knot into which the tail was tied, after the manner of dealers in horse-flesh.
"Why not pass the night here?"
"Nay, brother, we must be going on."
"You had better stay — you ought."
"Tell us, dear soul," put in Nikita, "how to go so that we may not go astray again."
"How can you lose your way here? Return to the road straight, when you get there you'll find it all straightforward. Don't turn to the left. You'll come out by a big mound, and then turn to the left."
"We turn from the big mound, then — but in which direction, the summer side or the winter side?" asked Nikita.
"The winter side. Immediately when you come out there, you will see bushes, right opposite the
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