mself. 'I'll give them
some fresh meat, or a bird, and they won't forget Daddy: they'll
sometimes bring a cake or a piece of pie.'

'Good morning. Mark! I am glad to see you,' shouted the old man
cheerfully, and quickly putting down his bare feet he jumped off his
bed and walked a step or two along the creaking floor, looked down at
his out-turned toes, and suddenly, amused by the appearance of his
feet, smiled, stamped with his bare heel on the ground, stamped again,
and then performed a funny dance-step. 'That's clever, eh?' he asked,
his small eyes glistening. Lukashka smiled faintly. 'Going back to the
cordon?' asked the old man.

'I have brought the chikhir I promised you when we were at the cordon.'

'May Christ save you!' said the old man, and he took up the extremely
wide trousers that were lying on the floor, and his beshmet, put them
on, fastened a strap round his waist, poured some water from an
earthenware pot over his hands, wiped them on the old trousers,
smoothed his beard with a bit of comb, and stopped in front of
Lukashka. 'Ready,' he said.

Lukashka fetched a cup, wiped it and filled it with wine, and then
handed it to the old man.

'Your health! To the Father and the Son!' said the old man, accepting
the wine with solemnity. 'May you have what you desire, may you always
be a hero, and obtain a cross.'

Lukashka also drank a little after repeating a prayer, and then put the
wine on the table. The old man rose and brought out some dried fish
which he laid on the threshold, where he beat it with a stick to make
it tender; then, having put it with his horny hands on a blue plate
(his only one), he placed it on the table.

'I have all I want. I have victuals, thank God!' he said proudly.
'Well, and what of Mosev?' he added.

Lukashka, evidently wishing to know the old man's opinion, told him how
the officer had taken the gun from him.

'Never mind the gun,' said the old man. 'If you don't give the gun you
will get no reward.'

'But they say. Daddy, it's little reward a fellow gets when he is not
yet a mounted Cossack; and the gun is a fine one, a Crimean, worth
eighty rubles.'

'Eh, let it go! I had a dispute like that with an officer, he wanted my
horse. "Give it me and you'll be made a cornet," says he. I wouldn't,
and I got nothing!'

'Yes, Daddy, but you see I have to buy a horse; and they say you can't
get one the other side of the river under fifty rubles, and mother has
not yet sol