could be closed with a small board. The fire-place was then
ready.

"Listen, little girl." In his illness the old man had become especially
gentle towards the orphan. "Now you must look after me. Be my little
housekeeper. Light the fire and boil the water. Thank God we have enough
bread and wood and meal. Put a couple of handfuls into the soup with
sliced potatoes; it will be quite tasty. Later on we will catch hares.
Peasants are not allowed to eat hares, but we are foresters, and that
has nothing to do with us."

So Anjuta lit the fire, cooked the soup, brought fresh wood from the
wood-pile. When the fire had burnt out, she clambered on the roof and
closed the opening--the "chimney," as Ivan called it--so that it
remained comfortably warm in the hut.

"Is that right, Grandfather?" she laughed.

"You are my treasure, my little dove," the old man said as he lay on his
skins. "Without you it would be all over with me."

Ivan was glad that he had taken care in the summer that the little girl
should know the way to the village thoroughly well. If his sickness
lasted, she would have to go many errands for him. But he did not like
sending the little creature out when all the paths were covered with
snow.

"Anjuta," he asked by way of precaution, "how will you recognize the way
to the village?"

"By the axe-cuts on the trunks as far as the pine which was struck by
lightning."

"You are a sharp little girl."

"And then by the ravine to the birch-tree where you have made the sign
of the cross. Then following the notches to the river, and from there
one can see the village."

Ivan became easier in mind. His protegee would not be lost, but in case
of need could fetch help by herself. But he continued in a weak state.
One day, when he felt he could no longer bear doing nothing, he dragged
himself, gun in hand, as far as the edge of the clearing, only to sink
down exhausted. Shaking with fever, after some time he returned home.
Anjuta, who ran to help him, was frightened and saw that all was not
right with him. He threw off his fur coat and talked to her excitedly,
with delirious eyes. "I will not go back behind the iron bars, do you
hear? I will not. I am innocent, your honour. Why do you torment the old
man? You might sentence a younger man to be knouted, but it will be the
death of me. Have pity, kind sirs, I must look after Anjuta." His voice
sank to a hardly intelligible whisper. "You have made a bad beginning,