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and dogs。 。 。 。 A Siberian cat； that rats and mice may not devour
my goods。 。 。 。 I will put up a house； I shall buy ikons。 。 。 。
Please God； I'll get married； I shall have children。 。 。 。〃
The tramp muttered and looked； not at his listeners； but away
into the distance。 Naive as his dreams were； they were uttered in
such a genuine and heartfelt tone that it was difficult not to
believe in them。 The tramp's little mouth was screwed up in a
smile。 His eyes and little nose and his whole face were fixed and
blank with blissful anticipation of happiness in the distant
future。 The constables listened and looked at him gravely； not
without sympathy。 They； too； believed in his dreams。
〃I am not afraid of Siberia；〃 the tramp went on muttering。
〃Siberia is just as much Russia and has the same God and Tsar as
here。 They are just as orthodox Christians as you and I。 Only
there is more freedom there and people are better off。 Everything
is better there。 Take the rivers there； for instance； they are
far better than those here。 There's no end of fish； and all sorts
of wild fowl。 And my greatest pleasure； brothers； is fishing。
Give me no bread to eat； but let me sit with a fishhook。 Yes；
indeed！ I fish with a hook and with a wire line； and set creels；
and when the ice comes I catch with a net。 I am not strong to
draw up the net； so I shall hire a man for five kopecks。 And；
Lord； what a pleasure it is！ You catch an eel…pout or a roach of
some sort and are as pleased as though you had met your own
brother。 And would you believe it； there's a special art for
every fish： you catch one with a live bait； you catch another
with a grub； the third with a frog or a grasshopper。 One has to
understand all that； of course！ For example； take the eel…pout。
It is not a delicate fish it will take a perch； and a pike
loves a gudgeon； the _shilishper_ likes a butterfly。 If you fish
for a roach in a rapid stream there is no greater pleasure。 You
throw the line of seventy feet without lead； with a butterfly or
a beetle； so that the bait floats on the surface； you stand in
the water without your trousers and let it go with the current；
and tug！ the roach pulls at it！ Only you have got to be artful
that he doesn't carry off the b ait； the damned rascal。 As soon
as he tugs at your line you must whip it up； it's no good
waiting。 It's wonderful what a lot of fish I've caught in my
time。 When we were running away the other convicts would sleep in
the forest； I could not sleep； but I was off to the river。 The
rivers there are wide and rapid； the banks are steep awfully！
It's all slumbering forests on the bank。 The trees are so tall
that if you look to the top it makes you dizzy。 Every pine would
be worth ten roubles by the prices here。〃
In the overwhelming rush of his fancies； of artistic images of
the past and sweet presentiments of happiness in the future； the
poor wretch sank into silence； merely moving his lips as though
whispering to himself。 The vacant； blissful smile never left his
lips。 The constables were silent。 They were pondering with bent
heads。 In the autumn stillness； when the cold； sullen mist that
rises from the earth lies like a weight on the heart； when it
stands like a prison wall before the eyes； and reminds man of the
limitation of his freedom； it is sweet to think of the broad；
rapid rivers； with steep banks wild and luxuriant； of the
impenetrable forests； of the boundless steppes。 Slowly and
quietly the fancy pictures how early in the morning； before the
flush of dawn has left the sky； a man makes his way along the
steep deserted bank like a tiny speck： the ancient； mast…like
pines rise up in terraces on both sides of the torrent； gaze
sternly at the free man and murmur menacingly； rocks； huge
stones； and thorny bushes bar his way； but he is strong in body
and bold in spirit； and has no fear of the pine…trees； nor
stones； nor of his solitude； nor of the reverberating echo which
repeats the sound of every footstep that he takes。
The peasants called up a picture of a free life such as they had
never lived； whether they vaguely recalled the images of stories
heard long ago or whether notions of a free life had been handed
down to them with their flesh and blood from far…off free
ancestors； God knows！
The first to break the silence was Nikandr Sapozhnikov； who had
not till then let fall a single word。 Whether he envied the
tramp's transparent happiness； or whether he felt in his heart
that dreams of happiness were out of keeping with the grey fog
and the dirty brown mud anyway； he looked sternly at the tramp
and said：
〃It's all very well； to be sure； only you won't reach those
plenteous regions； brother。 How could you？ Before you'd gone two
hundred miles you'd give up your soul to God。 Just look what a
weakling you are！ Here you've hardly gone five miles and you
can't get your breath。〃
The tramp turned slowly toward Nikandr； and the blissful smile
vanished from his face。 He looked with a scared and guilty air at
the peasant's staid face； apparently remembered something； and
bent his head。 A silence followed again。 。 。 。 All three were
pondering。 The peasants were racking their brains in the effort
to grasp in their imagination what can be grasped by none but God
that is； the vast expanse dividing them from the land of
freedom。 Into the tramp's mind thronged clear and distinct
pictures more terrible than that expanse。 Before him rose vividly
the picture of the long legal delays and procrastinations； the
temporary and permanent prisons； the convict boats； the wearisome
stoppages on the way； the frozen winters； illnesses； deaths of
companions。 。 。 。
The tramp blinked guiltily； wiped the tiny drops of sweat from
his forehead with his sleeve； drew a deep breath as though he had
just leapt out of a very hot bath； then wiped his forehead with
the other sleeve and looked round fearfully。
〃That's true； you won't get there！〃 Ptaha agreed。 〃You are not
much of a walker！ Look at you nothing but skin and bone！
You'll die； brother！〃
〃Of course he'll die！ What could he do？〃 said Nikandr。 〃He's fit
for the hospital now。 。 。 。 For sure！〃
The man who had forgotten his name looked at the stern；
unconcerned faces of his sinister companions； and without taking
off his cap； hurriedly crossed himself； staring with wide…open
eyes。 。 。 。 He trembled； his head shook； and he began twitching
all over； like a caterpillar when it is stepped upon。 。 。 。
〃Well； it's time to go；〃 said Nikandr； getting up； 〃we've had a
rest。〃
A minute later they were stepping along the muddy road。 The tramp
was more bent than ever； and he thrust his hands further up his
sleeves。 Ptaha was silent。
THE PIPE
MELITON SHISHKIN； a bailiff from the Dementyev farm； exhausted by
the sultry heat of the fir…wood and covered with spiders' webs
and pine…needles； made his way with his gun to the edge of the
wood。 His Damka a mongrel between a yard dog and a setter
an extremely thin bitch heavy with young； trailed after her
master with her wet tail between her legs； doing all she could to
avoid pricking her nose。 It was a dull； overcast morning。 Big
drops dripped