I handed him a cup of tea; he tasted it and made a grimace.

“Be so kind, your honor … tell them to give me a glass of vodka; tea is not a Cossack drink.”

I readily complied with his wish. The landlord took a glass and bottle out of the cupboard, came up to the man, and said, glancing into his face: “Aha! you are in our parts again! Where do you come from?”

My guide winked significantly and answered in riddles: “I flew about the kitchen-garden, picking hemp seed; granny threw a pebble but missed me. And how are you fellows getting on?”

“Nothing much to be said of them,” the landlord said, also speaking in metaphors. “They tried to ring the bells for vespers, but the priest’s wife said they must not: the priest is on a visit and the devils are in the churchyard.”

“Be quiet, uncle,” the tramp answered; “if it rains, there will be mushrooms, and if there are mushrooms there will be a basket for them; and now” (he winked again) “put the ax behind your back: the forester is about. Your honor, here’s a health to you!”

With these words he took the glass, crossed himself, and drank it at one gulp; then he bowed to me and returned to the shelf by the stove.

I could not at the time understand anything of this thieves’ jargon, but later on I guessed they were talking of the affairs of the Yaïk Cossacks, who had just been subdued after their rebellion in 1772. Savelyich listened with an air of thorough disapproval. He looked suspiciously both at the landlord and at our guide. The inn stood in the steppe by itself, far from any village, and looked uncommonly like a robbers’ den. But there was nothing else for it. There could be no question of continuing the journey. Savelyich’s anxiety amused me greatly. Meanwhile I made ready for the night and lay down on the bench. Savelyich decided to sleep on the stove; the landlord lay down on the floor. Soon the room was full of snoring and I dropped fast asleep.

Waking up rather late in the morning I saw that the storm had subsided. The sun was shining. The boundless steppe was wrapped in a covering of dazzling snow. The horses were harnessed. I paid the landlord, who charged us so little that even Savelyich did not dispute about it or try to beat him down as was his wont; he completely forgot his suspicions of the evening before. I called our guide, thanked him for the help he had given us, and told Savelyich to give him half a ruble for vodka. Savelyich frowned.

“Half a ruble!” he said. “What for? Because you were pleased to give him a lift and bring him to the inn? You may say what you like, sir, we have no half-rubles to spare. If we give tips to everyone we shall soon have to starve.”

I could not argue with Savelyich. I had promised that the money was to be wholly in his charge. I was annoyed, however, at not being able to thank the man who had saved me from a very unpleasant situation, if not from actual danger.

“Very well,” I said calmly. “If you don’t want to give him half a ruble, give him something out of my clothes. He is dressed much too lightly. Give him my hareskin coat.”

“Mercy on us, Pyotr Andreyich!” Savelyich cried. “What is the good of your hareskin coat to him? He will sell it for drink at the next pot-house, the dog.”

“That’s no concern of yours, old fellow, whether I sell it for drink or not,” said the tramp. “His honor gives me a fur coat of his own; it is your master’s pleasure to do so, and your business, as a servant, is to obey and not to argue.”

“You have no fear of God, you brigand!” Savelyich answered in an angry voice. “You see the child has no sense as yet and you are only too glad to take advantage of his good nature.