up planks
and boathooks, and to throw them down again, and once more to seize
them up.

"Put the tools together," Ossip shouted. "And look alive there, and
make for the bank."

"Aye, and a fine Easter Day it will be for us on THAT bank!" growled
Sashok.

Meanwhile, it was the river rather than the town that seemed to be
motionless--the latter had begun, as it were, to quiver and reel, and,
with the hill above it, to appear to be gliding slowly up stream, even
as the grey, sandy bank some ten sazheni from us was beginning to grow
tremulous, and to recede.

"Run, all of you!" shouted Ossip, giving me a violent push as he did
so. Then to myself in particular he added: "Why stand gaping there?"

This caused a keen sense of danger to strike home in my heart, and to
make my feet feel as though already the ice was escaping their tread.
So, automatically picking themselves up, those feet started to bear my
body in the direction of a spot on the sandy bank where the
winter-stripped branches of a willow tree were writhing, and whither
there were betaking themselves also Boev, the old soldier, Budirin, and
the brothers Diatlov. Meanwhile the Morduine ran by my side, cursing
vigorously as he did so, and Ossip followed us, walking backwards.

"No, no, Narodetz," he said.

"But, my good Ossip--"

"Never mind. What has to be, has to be."

"But, as likely as not, we may remain stuck here for two days!"

"Never mind even if we DO remain stuck here."

"But what of the festival?"

"It will have, for this year at least, to be kept without you."

Seating himself on the sand, the old soldier lit his pipe and growled:

"What cowards you all are! The bank was only fifteen sazheni from us,
yet you ran as though possessed!"

"With you yourself as leader," put in Mokei.

The old soldier took no notice, but added:

"What were you all afraid of? Once upon a time Christ Himself, Our
Little Father, died."

"And rose again," muttered the Morduine with a tinge of resentment.
Which led Boev to exclaim:

"Puppy, hold your tongue! What right have you to air your opinions?"

"Besides, this is Good Friday, not Easter Day," the old soldier
concluded with severe, didactical mien.

In a gap of blue between the clouds there was shining the March sun,
and everywhere the ice was sparkling as though in derision of
ourselves. Shading his eyes, Ossip gazed at the dissolving river, and
said:

"Yes, it IS rising--but that will not last f