Part 23 (1/2)

They could hear Tartar voices. The Tartars stopped at the very spot where they had left the road. They talked awhile, then they made a sound, as though sicking dogs. Something crashed through the bushes, and a strange dog made straight for them. It stopped and began to bark.

Then the Tartars came down,--they, too, were strangers. They took them, bound them, put them on their horses, and carried them off.

They travelled about three versts, when they were met by Abdul, the prisoners' master, and two more Tartars. They talked with each other, and the prisoners were put on the other horses and taken back to the village.

Abdul no longer laughed, and did not speak one word with them.

They were brought to the village at daybreak, and were placed in the street. The children ran up and beat them with stones and sticks, and screamed.

The Tartars gathered in a circle, and the old man from down-hill came, too. They talked together. Zhilin saw that they were sitting in judgment on them, discussing what to do with them. Some said that they ought to be sent farther into the mountains, but the old man said that they should be killed. Abdul disputed with them and said:

”I have paid money for them, and I will get a ransom for them.”

But the old man said:

”They will not pay us anything; they will only give us trouble. It is a sin to feed Russians. Kill them, and that will be the end of it.”

They all went their way. The master walked over to Zhilin and said:

”If the ransom does not come in two weeks, I will beat you to death. And if you try to run again I will kill you like a dog. Write a letter, and write it well!”

Paper was brought to them, and they wrote the letters. The stocks were put on them, and they were taken back of the mosque. There was a ditch there, about twelve feet in depth,--and into this ditch they were let down.

VI.

They now led a very hard life. The stocks were not taken off, and they were not let out into the wide world. Unbaked dough was thrown down to them, as to dogs, and water was let down to them in a pitcher. There was a stench in the ditch, and it was close and damp. Kostylin grew very ill, and swelled, and had a breaking out on his whole body; and he kept groaning all the time, or he slept. Zhilin was discouraged: he saw that the situation was desperate. He did not know how to get out of it.

He began to dig, but there was no place to throw the dirt in; the master saw it, and threatened to kill him.

One day he was squatting in the ditch, and thinking of the free world, and he felt pretty bad. Suddenly a cake fell down on his knees, and a second, and some cherries. He looked up,--it was Dina. She looked at him, laughed, and ran away. Zhilin thought: ”Maybe Dina will help me.”

He cleaned up a place in the ditch, sc.r.a.ped up some clay, and began to make dolls. He made men, horses, and dogs. He thought: ”When Dina comes I will throw them to her.”

But on the next day Dina did not come. Zhilin heard the tramping of horses; somebody rode by, and the Tartars gathered at the mosque; they quarrelled and shouted, and talked about the Russians. And he heard the old man's voice. He could not make out exactly what it was, but he guessed that the Russians had come close to the village, and that the Tartars were afraid that they might come to the village, and they did not know what to do with the prisoners.

They talked awhile and went away. Suddenly he heard something rustle above him. He looked up; Dina was squatting down, and her knees towered above her head; she leaned over, and her necklace hung down and dangled over the ditch. Her little eyes glistened like stars. She took two cheese-cakes out of her sleeve and threw them down to him. Zhilin said to her:

”Why have you not been here for so long? I have made you some toys. Here they are!”

He began to throw one after the other to her, but she shook her head, and did not look at them.

”I do not want them,” she said. She sat awhile in silence, and said; ”Ivan, they want to kill you!” She pointed with her hand to her neck.

”Who wants to kill me?”

”My father,--the old men tell him to. I am sorry for you.”

So Zhilin said:

”If you pity me, bring me a long stick!”