Tales from Tolstoi/How Much Land Does a Man Require?

by Leo Tolstoi

HOW MUCH LAND DOES A MAN REQUIRE?

I.

An elder sister from town visited a younger sister in the country. The elder was married to a merchant, the younger to a simple muzhik (i.e., peasant). The sisters drank tea together, and talked. The elder sister held her head high. She fell to boasting of her town life; how she lived and moved about in ease and comfort; how nicely she dressed her children; what delicious things she had to eat and drink, and how pleasant it was to be always driving about or going to the theatre. The younger sister was vexed. She began to run down town life, and exalt country life. "I would not change my condition for yours," said she. "I'll grant you that our life is dull, but it is without care. You live more finely, no doubt; but if trade brings you in much, it may also ruin you in an instant. The proverb says: 'Gain has a big brother called Loss.' To-day you are pretty rich, to-morrow you may be begging your bread beneath my windows. Our rustic life is surer—we are not rich, perhaps, but we always have enough." "Enough, indeed!" retorted the elder; "yes, and you share it with oxen and swine. You've neither elegance nor comfort. Let your husband work as he may, you'll live and die muckworms, and your children after you."

"Yes, so 'tis," returned the younger; "and we know what we have to expect. But set against it that our life is as solid as the rock beneath our feet. We truckle to none. We fear nobody. But all you townsfolk are beset with stumbling-blocks. To-day 'tis well, but to-morrow the unclean spirit pokes his bead in, and tempts your husband with cards, or wine, or theft, and—phew! your wealth is all dust and ashes. You can't deny it."

Pakhom, the younger sister's husband, was lying on the top of the stove, and listening to the women's prattle. "Quite true," said he to himself, "perfectly true. As our brother (i.e., himself) has been turning over his mother earth from his childhood, nonsense has had no time to get into his head. The mischief of it is, there's so little land to be had. Let me only have land enough, and I'll fear nobody: no, not even the Devil himself."

The women finished their tea, gossiped a little longer about their domestic affairs, cleared away the tea-things, and lay down to sleep.

And the Devil, who had all the time been sitting behind the stove, heard everything. He hugged himself with joy that the muzhik's wife should have set her husband off bragging—bragging that if he only had land enough, the Devil himself should not hurt him. "Softly, softly," thought he, "we'll be even with you yet. I'll give you land enough, and both you and your land shall be mine."

 

II.

Hard by the muzhiks dwelt a small landed proprietor—a lady. She owned 120 acres of land. Formerly she had lived on good terms with her muzhiks, and been very easy with them; but now she took an overseer, a retired soldier, who began to make life a burden to the muzhiks. However circumspect Pakhom might be, his horses would run astray among the oats, or his cow would break down a garden fence, or his calf would go browsing among the meadows—and for each of these trespasses there was a fine. Pakhom wept for rage, and scolded and beat his domestics again and again. Many grievous things did he suffer from that overseer during the year. Right glad was he, when the proper time came, to shut up his cattle in his yard. To feed them in winter was a hard matter, but at least there was no fear of fresh fines.

In the course of the winter the rumour spread that the lady was about to sell her land, and that this knight of the highway was about to purchase it. The muzhiks listened and trembled.

"Well," thought they, "if the land falls to this steward, he will punish us with fines worse than ever. Without the land we cannot live; we are in a hole indeed."

So the muzhiks went in a body to the landlady, and begged her not to sell the land to the steward, but let them have it. They promised to pay her more for it than he would. The lady consented. Then the muzhiks assembled together in their Mir (or communal council) and debated about buying the land for the community. They met together not once nor twice; but somehow the matter made no progress. The fact was, the unclean spirit had a hand in it, and prevented them from agreeing. At last the muzhiks decided to buy the land in separate lots, each one taking as much as he could. To this also the landlady agreed. Pakhom heard that his neighbour had bought twenty acres from his landlady, who had taken half the money down, and given him a whole year to pay off the rest. Pakhom grew jealous.

"They are buying up all the land amongst them," thought he, "and I shall be left out in the cold." He consulted his wife. "All the people are buying and buying," said he; "we too must manage to buy at least ten acres. Life will be impossible otherwise, for the overseer will ruin us with fines." So they laid their heads together about it.

They had laid by 100 roubles (£10), and they sold their horse, and half their bees, and sent out their son to service, and so scraped together half of the sum required. Pakhom tied up his money, chose fifteen acres of land, with a little copse thereon (he had had his eye upon it for a long time), and went to drive a bargain with his landlady. He succeeded in getting these fifteen acres on his own terms, shook hands upon the bargain, and paid a deposit. Then he went into town, completed the purchase, paid half the money down, engaged to pay off the rest in two years, and—was left alone with his land. Next, he borrowed some more money from his brother-in-law, and bought seed. He sowed the land he had purchased, and things went well with him. In a single year he paid off both his landlady and his brother-in-law. Pakhom was now a proprietor. It was his own land that he ploughed and sowed; it was upon his own land that he mowed hay, cut firewood, and grazed cattle. When Pcikhom went out upon his land, which was his for ever and ever, to plough, or watch the sprouting crops, or look abroad upon the pastures, his heart swelled within him. The very grass seemed unlike what it used to be; the flowers flowered quite differently. Formerly, when he had walked over his plot of land, it was just like any other—but now it was a different thing altogether.

 

III.

So Pakhom found life very pleasant. Everything went well with him, except that the muzhiks trespassed upon his crops and pastures. He besought them not to do so, but they took no heed. Sometimes the herdsmen let the cattle loose in the meadows; sometimes the horses galloped among the wheat. Pakhom drove them off, and remonstrated, but for a long time he did not go to law about it. At length his anger got the better of him, and to the local court he went He knew that the muzhiks did it not from malice, but from distress. "But," thought he, "I cannot let this sort of thing go on for ever. They will eat me out of house and home. I must give them a lesson once for all."

So be summoned first one and then another, and got them fined. The muzhiks, who were Pakhom's neighbours, took this much to heart, and now began to trespass wilfully. They broke into his wood at night, and stripped the bark off the young lindens. When Pakhom next strolled through the wood, he saw what had been done, and turned pale—the bark lay scattered on the ground, and the naked trunks stood gauntly forth. If they had even cut down a few bushes, or left one linden whole—well, even that would not have been so bad; but the miscreants had barked the whole lot. Pakhom was very angry.

"Alas!" he sighed, "if only I knew who it was, I'd make him pay through the nose for it," and he fell to thinking who it might be. "Simmy—it must be Simmy!"

So he went to Simeon's farm to sift the matter out; but he only came to high words with Simeon, who denied everything. But Pakhom was now more convinced than ever that Simeon had done it. He summoned him, and they went before the Court. The Court examined and cross-examined, and finally discharged the muzhik for want of evidence. Pakhom was now beside himself for rage. He reviled the magistrates themselves.

"You protect thieves and robbers," he cried. "If you were honest folk yourselves you would not acquit robbers." Thus Pakhom quarrelled with his judges as well as with his neighbours.

Pakhom had henceforth plenty of elbow-room at home, for everyone avoided him; but they made it too hot for him in the Mir or communal council.

Just about this time a rumour spread that people were seeking new lands. Pakhom said to himself, "There's no need for me to quit my land; but if any of us do go, there will be all the more room for the rest. I should then be able to get hold of their land, and so round off my own, for I am straitened here"

One day Pakhom was sitting at home, when a strange muzhik, who was passing by, looked in. They let him stay the night, gave him to eat, and talked together.

"Pray say, friend, whither God is leading you?"

The muzhik replied that he came from the south, from the lower Volga, and that plenty of work was to be had there. One word led to another, and so the muzhik told them how the people were settling down in those regions. His own people were there also, and had inscribed their names in the land registers, and had been allotted ten acres a head.

"The land there is so good," said he, "that when barley grows up the stalks are so high that you cannot see the horses, and so thick together that five handfuls of grain make a small rick. One muzhik went there quite poor, with nothing but his two hands in fact, and got an allotment of fifty acres. Last year he made 1,000 roubles (£100) from a single wheat-crop."

Pakhom's heart burned within him. Why should he grow poorer here the harder he worked, when he might live so well elsewhere?

"I'll sell my farm and land, and settle down there with the money, and farm on a big scale. It is a sin to remain alone here in such straits. But I must first of all go thither, and make sure that it is so."

So when the summer-time came he arose and went. He sailed down the Volga by the steamer as far as Samara, and after that he went forty miles on foot. He got to the place. Everything was exactly as he had been told. The muzhiks lived sumptuously there. The village community welcomed every immigrant who came thither, and allotted them ten acres a head. Moreover, everyone who had the money could purchase besides as much land as he liked, yes! the very best possible land at three roubles (6s.) an acre, any amount of it. Pakhom investigated everything, returned home in the autumn, and sold all he had. He sold his land with all its appurtenances; he sold his farm; he sold his cattle; he had his name struck off the roll of the community; waited for the spring, and went with his family to the new settlement.

 

IV.

Pakhom arrived at the new settlement with his family, and had his name inscribed in the roll of the largest village in the local Mir. He feasted the village elders, and produced his papers, which were all in order. They received Pakhom into the community, allotted him land for five souls, to wit fifty acres in different fields, with right of pasturage on the communal lands. Pakhom built him a house and bought much cattle. His own lot of land was double as much as before, and a fat land it was. He lived ten times as well upon it as heretofore. Of arable and pasturage land there was no lack, and he could keep as many cattle as he chose.

So at first, while he was building his house and buying his cattle, everything seemed good in his eyes; but when he got a little used to the place, he began to feel straitened there also. Pakhom, like the rest of them, wanted to sow Turkish wheat. But there was very little of such wheat land in the communal domains. They had to sow wheat in the grass land or fallow. They sowed the land one year, and then let it lie for two, till it was overgrown with grass again. There was any amount of light soil, but in light soil only rye will grow; wheat requires richer soil. Very many desired strong soil, but not everyone could get it. Thus quarrels arose. The richer muzhiks kept a tight hold on what they had got, while the poorer ones had to sell theirs to pay their taxes. The first year Pakhom sowed his allotted land with wheat, and the crop was good. Then he would hear of nothing but sowing more wheat, but there was very little wheat land allotted, and what there was was not worth much. He longed for more. He went to a merchant and hired land for a year. He sowed wheat again, this time much more abundantly. Again the crop was good, but the field was far from the village. You had to go fifteen miles to get to it. As Pakhom went to and fro, he saw all around him merchant muzhiks living on their own farms, and doing very well "That's something like a trade," thought Pakhom. "If only I could buy a small estate out-and-out and build a farm upon it, I should be as right as a trivet."

And so Pakhom began to rack his brains as to how he could buy an estate out-and-out.

Thus Pakhom lived for five years. He hired more land and sowed more and more wheat. The years rolled by prosperously; the wheat crops were good; he began to amass money. Life would indeed have been worth living but for the annoyance which Pakhom felt in hiring land from people every year, and losing time by going in search of it. Wherever the land was a little better than usual, thither would the muzhiks flock and divide it amongst them, and if he did not make haste to buy, there would be no more left to sow upon. And once he hired from the merchants one half of the communal pasturages, and ploughed it up. The muzhiks brought an action against him, and the whole arrangement fell through. If it had only been his own land none would have interfered, and there would have been no opposition.

Now, while Pakhom was thinking where he could buy land out-and-out, he fell in with a muzhik who had 500 acres of land, but had ruined himself and was selling it dirt cheap. Pakhom began to bargain with him. They haggled and haggled about the price, but at last it was fixed at 1,000 roubles (£100), half of which was to be paid down. They were just about to finally settle, when a merchant on his way home stopped at Pakhom's farm to fodder his horses. They began talking and drinking tea together. The merchant said lie had come all the way from the land of the Bashkirs. There, he said, he had bought 5,000 acres of land from the Bashkirs, and the whole lot only came to 1,000 roubles. Pakhom began asking questions. The merchant told him all about it.

"You have only to cajole their chiefs," said he. "I gave them 100 roubles' worth of dressing-gowns and carpets, and a chest of tea, and drank a little wine with those who liked it, and I got land at 20 kopecks (5d.) an acre, land hard by the river, and the steppe covered with grass."

At this Pakhom began to redouble his questions.

"The land there," continued the merchant, "is so vast that if you took a whole year to go over it you would not do it, and it all belong to the Bashkirs. They are a simple people, just like sheep. Possibly you may even get some of the land for nothing."

"Well," thought Pakhom, "why should I buy 500 acres of land with my 1,000 roubles, and saddle myself with debt besides, when there with the same money I could do what I liked?"

 

V.

Pakhom asked the way thither, and as soon as the merchant had gone, he too got ready for his journey. He left his wife at home, but took a labourer with him, and set out. First they went to town; bought chests of tea, gifts, wine, everything that the merchant had said. They went on and on, quite 500 miles they went. On the seventh day they came to the land of the nomadic Bashkirs. Everything there was exactly as the merchant had said. The Bashkirs dwelt in the steppe by a river's side, in kibitki, or felt-covered wagons. They ploughed no fields, and ate no bread; but they drove cattle along the steppes, and whole herds of horses. Behind the kibitki the foals were fastened up. The mares were driven thither twice a day and milked, and from the milk the Bashkirs made koumiss. The old women beat the milk to make cheese of it, but it was not the sort of cheese the Russian muzhiks knew how to make. The men drank tea and koumiss, ate sheep's flesh, and played on the flute. All of them were sleek and light-hearted, and feasted all the year round. It was a swarthy race, knowing no Russian, but given largely to hospitality. The instant they saw Palchom, the Bashkirs came out of their kibitki and surrounded the stranger. An interpreter chanced to be there. Pakhom told him he had come for land. The Bashkirs were delighted, seized hold of Pakhom, haled him away into the best of the kibitki, set him down on a carpet, placed beneath him soft, downy cushions, and regaled him with tea and koumiss. Then they cut a sheep to pieces and gave him mutton. Pakhom sent to his tarantass (a light car with long shafts) for his presents, and distributed them among the Bashkirs. At this the Bashkirs were till more delighted They chatted away amongst themselves and bade the interpreter speak to Pakhom.

"They bid me tell you," said the interpreter, "that they've taken a fancy to you, and 'tis their custom to grant the desires of their guests, and give back gifts for gifts. You have given us gifts, speak now! what thing of ours does your heart desire that we may give it you?"

"What I like best of all," replied Pakhom, "is your land. With us there is a scarcity of land, and what there is of it is exhausted, but with you there is much land and good. I have never seen the like of it before."

The interpreter interpreted. The Bashkirs talked away among themselves. Pakhom did not understand what they were saying, but he could see that they were vastly amused at something, for they laughed heartily. At last they grew quiet and looked at Pakhom, and the interpreter spoke again.

"They bid me tell you," said he, "that for your goodness to them they will be glad to give you as much land as you desire. Only point out with your hand what you like best, and it is yours!"

Again they began talking among themselves, and some sort of a dispute arose. Pakhom asked what they were disputing about.

The interpreter replied, "Some of them say you must ask the chief about the land, as without him nothing can be done; but the others say it can be done very well without him."

 

VI.

So the Bashkirs went on wrangling, when suddenly a man in a fox-skin cap came up. They were all still in a moment, and rose to their feet.

"That is the chief," said the interpreter.

Pakhom immediately got out his best dressing-gown and gave it to the chief, with five pounds of tea besides. The chief took the presents and sat down in the place of honour. And immediately the Bashkirs began to tell him all about Pakhom. He listened and listened, and now and then he smiled. Then he began to speak in Russian.

"Be it so," said he, "take what seems best to you. There's enough land and to spare."

"What!" thought Pakhom, "I may take as much as I like. But I must make sure of it somehow. To-day they may say take it, 'tis yours, and to-morrow they may take it back again. I thank you for your good words," added he aloud. "You have indeed very much land and I don't want much; but I should like to know exactly what is to be mine. We must measure it fair and square somehow, and I must be put into sure possession of it. Life and death are in God's hands. You who give it to me are good people, but your children may take it away again."

The chief smiled. "May be," said he, "we will make it sure then—surer than sure."

Pakhom spoke again, "I have heard," said he, "from a merchant who used to be here, that you gave him much land and made an agreement with him, do the same with me."

The chief understood perfectly.

"Quite so," said he, "we have a scribe here, and we'll go to town and have the agreement signed and sealed."

"And the price?" asked Pakhom.

"We have only one price here, 1,000 roubles a day."

Pakhom did not comprehend.

"A day!" thought he, "what sort of measure is that? How many acres is that? "he asked aloud.

"That is more than we can tell," replied the chief. "We sell by the day, that is to say, as much land as you are able to compass in a day, so much is your measure; the price per day is 1,000 roubles."

Pakhom was amazed. "But look now," said he, "a very great deal of land may be got over in a day."

The chief smiled. "Yes, and it will all be yours. But there's one condition. If you don't come back within the day to the point from whence you started, you forfeit your money and get nothing."

"But how?" asked Pakhom again; "do you mean to say you'll measure me all I go over?"

"We will stand at the place from whence you start. We, I say, will stand still there while you go your rounds, and after you will come our young men on horseback, planting poles wherever you tell them, and ploughing a furrow from pole to pole. You are free to make your own circuit, but you must come back to the place from whence you started before the setting of the sun. Whatsoever you compass within that time, the same shall be yours."

Pakhom consented, and they agreed to set out early next morning. They fell to talking again, they drank some more koumiss together, they drank some more tea, the night wore on. Then they made a bed for Pakhom of soft cushions, and the Bashkirs left him. They promised to assemble again at dawn next morning, and go to the starting-point before sunrise.

 

VII.

Pakhom lay on his cushions, but he could not sleep. He kept thinking of the land. "Here," said he, "I am indeed in luck's way. I am about to drop into a huge domain, for in a day I can make a circuit of fifty miles easily, and the days are now at their longest. Now, in fifty miles there are at least 10,000 acres. I shall be independent of all the world. I will get two yoke of oxen and two labourers. I will plough up the parts I like best, and will graze cattle on the remainder."

Pakhom did not sleep a wink the whole night. It was only just before dawn that he dozed off, and then he dreamed a dream. He dreamed he lay in that very kibitka and heard someone laughing outside. A strong desire seized him to see who was laughing so much, and he went out of the kibitka. And he dreamed that the selfsame Bashkir chief was sitting by the kibitka, holding his sides with both hands, and shrieking with laughter at something or other. And he went up and asked him, "What are you laughing at so much?" And then he saw that it was not the Bashkir chief, but the merchant of a few days ago who had sojourned with him and told him of the land. And he asked the merchant, "Why, how long have you been here?" And then he saw that it was not the merchant, but the muzhik who had come up from the Volga and told him of the new settlement. And he looked, again, and saw that it was not the muzhik after all, but the devil in person, with horns and hoofs, who sat laughing, and looking at something. And Pakhom thought, "What is he looking at, and why is he laughing so?" And he dreamed that he crept up sideways, and peeped, and saw a man lying there in nothing but a shirt and trousers. His feet were bare, and he lay face upwards, as pale as a towel. And as Pakhom gazed more attentively to see who the man might be, he saw that it was himself. Pakhom shrieked aloud and woke. He woke, and his first thought was, what nonsense people do dream! He looked around him, and saw that the sky was growing grey—it was beginning to dawn. "I must wake up the people," thought he, "the time has come."

 

VIII.

Pakhom arose, awoke his labourer in the tarantass, bade him put the horses to, and went to arouse the Bashkirs.

"It is time," said he, "to go to the steppe and take our measurements."

The Bashkirs arose, assembled, and presently the chief joined them. The Bashkirs again began drinking koumiss, and wanted to make Pakhom drink tea, but he would not wait.

"If we are going, let us go," said he.

So the Bashkirs set out, some on horseback and some in tarantasses. But Pakhom with his labourer went in his own tarantass. By the time they reached the steppe the red dawn was already visible. They came to a little mound, dismounted, and the Bashkirs went up to the top of it and stood there in a group. The chief came to Pakhom, and pointed with his hand.

"Behold!" said he, "as far as your eyes can reach, all is ours. Choose what you will!"

Pakhom's eyes flashed. The whole of the land was covered with plumy grass. It was as level as the palm of your hand, and as black as poppy-seed, and the ravines were marked by bush patches of divers colours breast high. The chief doffed his fox-skin cap, and set it on the top of the mound.

"That," said he, "will be the goal, put your money in it. Your labourer will stand here. This is your starting-point—hither also will you return. Whatsoever you compass shall be yours.

Pakhom took out his money, placed it in the cap, doffed his kaftan (i.e., long cloak)—his doublet was sufficient clothing—girded up his loins, tightened his belt, thrust a bit of bread into his bosom, fastened a gourd full of water to his waist, drew up the straps of his boots, and prepared to depart. He racked his brains as to which direction he should take first—everywhere the land was good.

"'Tis all one," thought he, "I'll go towards the setting of the sun." He stood with his face towards the dawn, stamping impatiently for the sun to appear above the horizon. Then he thought, "What's the good of losing so much time? I'll wait no longer, 'twill be easier going in the cool of the morning.

The mounted Bashkirs new likewise appeared on the top of the mound, and stood behind Pakhom. No sooner had the sun burst above the horizon than Pakhom turned round and went down into the steppe. The horsemen followed after.

Pakhom set out at a leisurely, even pace. He went a mile and then bade them plant a pole. He went on further. His limbs began to lose their first stiffness. He quickened his pace. He went still further and bade them plant another pole. Pakhom glanced back at the sun, the top of the mound was well in sight, with the group standing on it. Pakhom calculated that he had gone five miles. And now he began to sweat. He cast off his doublet and girded himself still tighter. He went on further and covered another five miles. It began to be hot. Again he looked back at the sun. It was already breakfast-time.

"I have now done one wagon-stage," thought he, "four wagon-stages make a good day's journey. It is still too early to turn back, but I may at least loosen my boots." He sat down, made his boots easier, and went on further. It was now much easier going. He thought, "I'll go another five miles and then I'll turn to the left. This spot is good."

But the further he went the better the land got. He continued to go straight on. He looked round at last. The mound was scarcely visible, and the people upon it looked like black ants.

"Well," thought Pakhom, "I've taken enough in this direction. I must turn off now." He had grown very hot and felt a strong desire to drink. So he raised his gourd to his mouth and drank without stopping, bathe them plant another pole in the ground, and turned off sharply to the left. He went on and on. The grass was very stiff and high. The heat became oppressive. Pakhom stood still. He looked at the sun. It was dinner-time. "Well," thought Pakhom, "I must rest I suppose." So he stopped and ate some bread, but would not sit down. "For," thought he, "if you begin to sit down you will want to lie down, and if you lie down you will go to sleep." So he stood still for a little while to get his breath, and then on he went again. At first it was easy going. His food had fortified him. But soon it grew very hot again, and the sun beat full upon him. Pakhom began to grow mortally weary. "Come, come!" thought he, "endure for an hour and live like a king ever afterwards!"

So on he went and traversed ten mile's in this direction likewise. He was about to turn to the left again, when his eye fell upon a very good little spot—a fresh, well-watered ravine. He had not the heart to leave it out.

"How well flax will grow there," thought he. So he went straight on again and compassed the ravine, had another pole planted and turned the second corner. Pakhom looked towards the mound. The people on it were just visible. It was exactly fifteen miles off. "Well," thought he, "I have made the first two sides of my domain very long, this one must be much shorter." He now traversed the third side, taking longer strides than before. He looked again at the sun. It had already begun to decline. On the third side he had only gone two miles in all, and still he was quite fifteen miles from the goal. "Well," thought he, "although my property will be somewhat lop-sided, I must nevertheless keep straight on now. Any more would be more than I could manage. I've got enough land at last." So Pakhom turned his steps straight towards the mound.

 

IX.

Pakhom went straight towards the mound, and very heavy going he found it. On he went, stumbling again and again. His legs ached and swelled, and seemed on the point of giving way beneath him altogether. He would have liked to have rested, but that was now out of the question, he would never have reached the goal before sunset. The sun did not wait for him. It was not sinking, it was falling—falling as if someone was jerking it down. "Alas!" thought Pakhom, " have I made a mistake? Have I chosen too much? Suppose I don't arrive in time! Alas! how far off it is! I am wearied to death! What if all my labour and trouble go for nothing!—I must put on a spurt."

Pakhom pulled himself together and broke into a trot. His legs began to bleed, but he ran for all that. He threw away his vest, his shoes, his water-gourd; he threw away his hat. "Alas!" thought Pakhom, "I have coveted too much, and I shall lose everything if I do not reach the goal in time," and a terrible fear seized upon his soul. Pakhom ran and ran. His shirt and his trousers, drenched with sweat, clave to his body; his mouth was parched and dry. His breast seemed to be a blacksmith's bellows; his heart beat like a hammer; his feet bent beneath him and no longer seemed his own. Pakhom thought no more of his land, what he thought was this: "Suppose I were to die of fatigue!" He feared to die, but he could not find it in his heart to stop. "After running such a distance, to stop now!" he thought. "No! they would call me a fool! What was that?" He listened. The Bashkirs were shouting and bellowing to him to come on, and their shouts kindled his courage once more. Pakhom ran with all the strength he still had left in him, and just then the sun dipped on the horizon. But he was now quite close to the goal. Pakhom saw the people on the mound waving their hands to him, and it goaded him on. And now he saw the fox-skin cap on the ground, and the money in it, and he saw the chief sitting on the ground and holding his sides. And Pakhom recollected his dream. "The land is plenteous," thought he, "most plenteous, but will God let me live upon it? Alas! I have lost my very self," thought he. And still he kept on running. He looked back upon the sun. It was large and red, and quite close to the ground; it was on the point of disappearing. Pakhom reached the foot of the mound and the sun went down. Pakhom groaned. He already thought that he had lost everything; but then it suddenly occurred to him that 'twas only he, below there, who could not see the sun, from the top of the mound it must still be visible. Pakhom dashed towards the mound. He scaled it at a gallop, and saw the fox-skin cap—yes! there it lay! Then he stumbled and fell, and as he fell he stretched out his hands towards the cap.

"Well done, my son!" roared the chief of the Bashkirs, "you have indeed won much land!"

Pakhom's labourer ran towards him, and would have lifted him up, but he saw that blood was flowing from his mouth; there he lay—dead! The labourer groaned, but the chief sat squatting on the ground, holding his sides and roaring with laughter.

And now the Bashkir chief arose, took the money from the ground, and shouted to the labourer, "Come! Dig!"

Then all the Bashkirs rose likewise and went away.

The labourer remained alone with the corpse. He dug Pakhom a grave, and there he buried him. The grave was three Russian ells in length, Pakhom's exact measurement from head to foot.