Come on, Gavrila! Do you want anything to eat?”

“All I want is to sleep . . . ” answered Gavrila, and five minutes later he was snoring, while Chelkash, sitting beside him, was trying on somebody’s top boot, pensively spitting on the side and whistling a mournful tune through his teeth. Then he stretched out beside Gavrila, put his hands under the back of his head and lay there, twitching his moustache.

The barge rocked gently on the playful water. Something creaked plaintively. The rain pattered softly on the deck. The waves splashed against the side of the barge. . . . And it all sounded so sad, like a cradle song sung by a mother who had no hopes of happiness for her son. . . .

Chelkash bared his teeth, raised his head, looked around, whispered something to himself, and lay down again. . . . He spread out his legs, and this made him look like a huge pair of scissors.

III

He woke up first, looked around anxiously, calmed down at once and looked at Gavrila who was still sleeping, snoring lustily, with a smile spread all over his boyish, healthy, sunburnt face. Chelkash sighed and climbed up a narrow rope ladder. A patch of leaden sky peered down the hatchway. It was already light, but the day was dull and grey, as it usually is in the autumn.

Chelkash returned about two hours later. His face was flushed and his moustaches were dashingly screwed upward. He wore a tunic and buckskin breeches, and a pair of tall, stout top boots. He looked like a huntsman. Although not new, the costume was still sound and suited him well. It made him look broader, concealed his gauntness and gave him a martial appearance.

“Hey, you calf, get up!” he cried, pushing Gavrila with his foot.

Gavrila jumped up. Still half asleep, he failed to recognize Chelkash and stared at him with dull, sleepish eyes. Chelkash burst out laughing.

“You do look fine!” exclaimed Gavrila at last, with a broad smile. “Quite a gentleman!”

“That doesn’t take long with us.