“He’ll be right back,” said the stocky peasant, turning away from Salakin, and began to roll a cigarette. Vanyushka too rose, but immediately sat down again. His knees turned to water and refused to support his body. He looked stupidly into his comrade’s face and seeing that Salakin’s lips were trembling, he wailed softly in fear and anguish.

The tavern-keeper returned alone. He went behind the counter again as slowly and quietly as he had left it, and leaning on it, he said to the old man:

“It’s getting warmer again.”

“It’s the time of year.”

“Well, we must be driving off,” said Salakin aloud, approaching the counter. “Here’s your money.”

“Wait a while,” the tavern-keeper said, smiling lazily.

“We’re in a hurry,” said Salakin, more quietly, dropping his eyes.

“Well, wait anyway,” repeated the tavern-keeper.

“What for?”

“I sent for the bailiff.”

Vanyushka jumped to his feet and sat down again.

“Your bailiff’s nothing to me,” declared Salakin, shrugging his shoulders and putting on his cap.

“But you’re something to him,” said the tavern-keeper lazily, moving away from Salakin.

The old man and the stocky peasant became interested in the conversation, which was unintelligible to them, and moved over toward the counter.

“He wants to ask you a question: how is it that you sell meat, but you carry coal-sacks?”

“Ah,” drawled the old man, moving away from Salakin.

“So that’s the way of it!” exclaimed the stocky peasant. “They have stolen the horse!”

“No!” exclaimed Vanyushka in a shrill voice.

Salakin waved his arm, and turning to him, said with a crooked smile:

“Here we are, we’re through!”

Five more peasants entered the pot-house noisily, one of them a tall, red-headed man, with a long staff in his hands. Vanyushka looked at them with wide-opened eyes. It seemed to him that they were all swaying on their feet like drunken men and were making the room sway, too.

“Good day, my hearties!” said the peasant with the staff. “Well, tell us who you are. And where do you come from? Take me, for instance, I am the bailiff, and who are you?”

Salakin looked at the bailiff and gave a laugh that resembled the barking of a dog. His face blanched.

“So you are laughing?” said one of the peasants sternly, and proceeded to tuck up his sleeves.