l be like
a log of wood!"

And they did not speak to each other for about three days, very much to
the regret of the teacher, who during these days had to give the lowest
markings to the son of the esteemed Ignat Matveyich.

Yozhov knew everything: he related at school how the procurator's
chambermaid gave birth to a child, and that for this the procurator's
wife poured hot coffee over her husband; he could tell where and when it
was best to catch perch; he knew how to make traps and cages for birds;
he could give a detailed account of how the soldier had hanged himself
in the garret of the armoury, and knew from which of the pupils' parents
the teacher had received a present that day and precisely what sort of a
present it was.

The sphere of Smolin's knowledge and interests was confined to the
merchant's mode of life, and, above all, the red-headed boy was fond of
judging whether this man was richer than that, valuing and pricing their
houses, their vessels and their horses. All this he knew to perfection,
and spoke of it with enthusiasm.

Like Foma, he regarded Yozhov with the same condescending pity, but more
as a friend and equal. Whenever Gordyeeff quarrelled with Yozhov, Smolin
hastened to reconcile them, and he said to Foma one day, on their way
home:

"Why do you always quarrel with Yozhov?"

"Well, why is he so self-conceited?" said Foma, angrily.

"He is proud because you never know your lessons, and he always helps
you out. He is clever. And because he is poor--is he to blame for that?
He can learn anything he wants to, and he will be rich, too."

"He is like a mosquito," said Foma, disdainfully; "he will buzz and
buzz, and then of a sudden will bite."

But there was something in the life of these boys that united them all;
there were hours when the consciousness of difference in their natures
and positions was entirely lost. On Sundays they all gathered at
Smolin's, and, getting up on the roof of the wing, where they had an
enormous pigeon-house, they let the pigeons loose.

The beautiful, well-fed birds, ruffling their snow-white wings, darted
out of the pigeon-house one by one, and, seating themselves in a row
on the ridge of the roof, and, illumined by the sun, cooing, flaunted
before the boys.

"Scare them!" implored Yozhov, trembling for impatience.

Smolin swung a pole with a bast-wisp fastened to its end, and whistled.

The frightened pigeons rushed into the air, filling it with the h