And when Hopeful had done coughing, and, throwing back his head, breathed freely, he spoke peremptorily:

“Take a rest. Let’s sit down.”

They sat down on the damp earth in the shadow of the bushes. Jig-Leg rolled a cigarette, lit it, looked at the glow of it, and began slowly:

“If we had something to eat at home…we could go back.…”

“That’s true,” Hopeful nodded.

Jig-Leg looked at him out of the corner of his eye and continued:

“But since there’s nothing at home, we must go on.”

“So we must,” sighed Hopeful.

“Although we’ve nowhere to go, because no good will come of it. And the main reason is, we’re foolish. What fools we are!”

Jig-Leg’s dry voice cut through the air, and must have greatly disturbed Hopeful: he kept writhing on the ground, sighing, and making strange rumbling sounds.

“And I’m so damn hungry,” Jig-Leg concluded his reproachful speech.

Hopeful resolutely rose to his feet.

“What’s the matter?” asked Jig-Leg.

“Let’s go!”

“Why so lively all of a sudden?”

“Let’s go!”

“All right—” Jig-Leg rose too—“only it’s no use.…”

“What will happen will happen!” and Hopeful waved his hand.

“So you’ve plucked up courage again?”

“What? Here you’ve been nagging and nagging me, and scolding and scolding me.…Oh, Lord!”

“Then why do you act foolishly?”

“Why?”

“Yes.”

“Well, don’t you see, I felt so sorry.”

“For whom? For what?”

“For whom? For that peasant, I suppose.”

“Peasant?” drawled Jig-Leg. “That’s an idea to chew on! You’ve a heart of gold, but no brains. What’s the peasant to you? Understand? Why, he’d nab you and crack you under his nail like a flea! That’s the time for you to be sorry for him! Go and show him what a fool you are, and in return for your pity he’ll