“We went the limit last night,” said Kuzin, looking at his chum reproachfully.

“Yes, we wet our whistles plenty,” the other replied with relish.

“I blew in all my dough!”

“That’s nothing. We’ll get along!”

“Yes, it’s all right for you…”

“Don’t worry. I have seventeen kopecks, and then I’ll sell my boots. We’ll get along.”

“Well, if that’s how it is…” said Vanyushka, looking distrustfully into his chum’s face, and seeing that Salakin was silent, he added:

“You’ve got to help me now, I spent my money drinking with you, so you must…”

“That’s all right. ’Goes without saying. Laugh together, cry together. We’re no rich folk to quarrel over who should get what. There’s not much to divide.”

His eyes and voice reassured Vanyushka, and he said:

“What have you got in your hand?”

“Guess.”

Kuzin glanced about and asked under his breath:

“Counterfeiting tools, eh?”

“You queer fish!” exclaimed Salakin, laughing. “The idea! What do you know about counterfeiting?”

“I know. Not far from our village there was a peasant in this business.…Well, he landed in Siberia.”

Salakin grew thoughtful, was silent for a while, and turning the box about in his hands, said with a sigh:

“Yes, they deport you for it.”

“So that’s what it is?” asked Vanyushka quietly, nodding towards the box.

“Oh, no. That’s the inside of a watch.…Get up, let’s go and have tea.”

Vanyushka climbed off the bed, smoothed his hair with his hand, and said:

“Let’s.”

But the copper box fascinated him and filled him with a kind of fear. Seeing that Salakin thrust it in his bosom, he asked him:

“Where did you get it?”

“I bought it at the marketplace, when I was selling my overcoat. I paid seventy kopecks…”

“What do you want it for?” Vanyushka pressed him.

“You see—” bending toward his ear, Salakin spoke mysteriously—“for a long time I’ve wanted to understand how the clock knows what time it is. Midday, and it strikes twelve! How’s that? Plain copper and yet