took the spade from his man, and stood ready to start. He considered for some moments which way he had better go—it was tempting everywhere.
'No matter,' he concluded, 'I will go towards the rising sun.'
He turned his face to the east, stretched himself, and waited for the sun to appear above the rim.
'I must lose no time,' he thought, 'and it is easier walking while it is still cool.'
The sun's rays had hardly flashed above the horizon, before Pahóm, carrying the spade over his shoulder, went down into the steppe.
Pahóm started walking neither slowly nor quickly. After having gone a thousand yards he stopped, dug a hole, and placed pieces of turf one on another to make it more visible. Then he went on; and now that he had walked off his stiffness he quickened his pace. After a while he dug another hole.
Pahóm looked back. The hillock could be distinctly seen in the sunlight, with the people on it, and the glittering tyres of the cartwheels. At a rough guess Pahóm concluded that he had walked three miles. It was growing warmer; he took off his under-coat, flung it across his shoulder, and went on again. It had grown quite warm now; he looked at the sun, it was time to think of breakfast.
'The first shift is done, but there are four in a day, and it is too soon yet to turn. But I will just take off my boots,' said he to himself.
He sat down, took off his boots, stuck them into his girdle, and went on. It was easy walking now.
'I will go on for another three miles,' thought he, 'and then turn to the left. The spot is so fine, that it would be a pity to lose it. The further one goes, the better the land seems.'
He went straight on for a while, and when he looked round, the hillock was scarcely visible and the people on it looked like black ants, and he could just see something glistening there in the sun.
'Ah,' thought Pahóm, 'I have gone far enough in
