sent from a town into the woods to pursue all suspicious
people.

"Do you understand, 'Comrade,'" said one of them to me, "we are looking
for counter-revolutionists to shoot them?"

I knew it without his explanations. All my forces were directed to
assuring them by my conduct that I was a simple peasant hunter and that
I had nothing in common with the counter-revolutionists. I was thinking
also all the time of where I should go after the departure of my
unwelcome guests. It grew dark. In the darkness their faces were even
less attractive. They took out bottles of vodka and drank and the
alcohol began to act very noticeably. They talked loudly and constantly
interrupted each other, boasting how many bourgeoisie they had killed
in Krasnoyarsk and how many Cossacks they had slid under the ice in the
river. Afterwards they began to quarrel but soon they were tired and
prepared to sleep. All of a sudden and without any warning the door of
the hut swung wide open and the steam of the heated room rolled out in
a great cloud, out of which seemed to rise like a genie, as the steam
settled, the figure of a tall, gaunt peasant impressively crowned with
the high Astrakhan cap and wrapped in the great sheepskin overcoat that
added to the massiveness of his figure. He stood with his rifle ready
to fire. Under his girdle lay the sharp ax without which the Siberian
peasant cannot exist. Eyes, quick and glimmering like those of a wild
beast, fixed themselves alternately on each of us. In a moment he took
off his cap, made the sign of the cross on his breast and asked of us:
"Who is the master here?"

I answered him.

"May I stop the night?"

"Yes," I replied, "places enough for all. Take a cup of tea. It is still
hot."

The stranger, running his eyes constantly over all of us and over
everything about the room, began to take off his skin coat after putting
his rifle in the corner. He was dressed in an old leather blouse with
trousers of the same material tucked in high felt boots. His face was
quite young, fine and tinged with something akin to mockery. His white,
sharp teeth glimmered as his eyes penetrated everything they rested
upon. I noticed the locks of grey in his shaggy head. Lines of
bitterness circled his mouth. They showed his life had been very stormy
and full of danger. He took a seat beside his rifle and laid his ax on
the floor below.

"What? Is it your wife?" asked one of the drunken soldiers, pointing to
the