sea stroked their sides with a hollow sound of supplication, and they responded with an echo, cold and resonant, as though unwilling to yield anything.

“The coastguards!” Chelkash whispered hardly above a breath.

From the moment when he had bidden him row more slowly, Gavrila had again been overcome by that intense agony of expectation. He craned forward into the darkness, and he felt as though he were growing bigger; his bones and sinews stretched with a dull ache, his head, filled with a single idea, ached, the skin on his back twitched, and his legs seemed pricked with sharp, chill little pins and needles. His eyes ached from the strain of gazing into the darkness, whence he expected every instant something would spring up and shout to them: “Stop, thieves!”

Now when Chelkash whispered: “The coastguards!” Gavrila shuddered, and one intense, burning idea passed through him, and thrilled his taut nerves; he longed to cry out, to call men to his aid. He almost opened his mouth, and half rose from his seat, squared his chest, drew in a full draught of breath—and opened his mouth—but suddenly, struck down by a terror that smote him like a whip, he shut his eyes and rolled off his seat.

Far away on the horizon, ahead of the boat, there rose up out of the black water of the sea a huge fiery blue sword; it rose up, cleaving the darkness of night, its blade glided through the clouds in the sky, and lay, a broad blue streak on the bosom of the sea. It lay there, and within the path of its light there sprang up out of the darkness ships unseen till then, black and mute, shrouded in the thick night mist. It seemed as though they had lain long at the bottom of the sea, dragged down by the might of the tempest; and now behold they had been drawn up at the will of this blue fiery sword, born of the sea—had been drawn up to gaze upon the sky and all that was above the water. Their rigging wrapped about the masts and looked like clinging seaweeds, that had risen from the depths with these black giants caught in their snares. And it rose upward again from the sea, this terrible blue sword,—rose, cleft the night again, and again fell in another direction. And again, where it lay, there rose up out of the dark the outlines of vessels, unseen before.

Chelkash’s boat stopped and rocked on the water, as though perplexed. Gavrila lay at the bottom, his face hidden in his hands, until Chelkash poked him with his boot and whispered furiously, but softly:

“Fool, it’s the customs cruiser. That’s the electric light! Get up, blockhead! Why, they’ll turn the light on us in a minute! You’ll be the ruin of yourself, you devil, and of me! Come!”

And at last, when a blow from the heel of the boot struck Gavrila’s back more violently, he jumped up, still afraid to open his eyes, sat down on the seat, and, fumbling for the oars, rowed the boat on.

“Quietly! I’ll kill you! Didn’t I tell you? There, quietly! Ah, you fool, damn you! What are you frightened of? Eh, pig face? A lantern, that’s all it is. Softly with the oars! You sour devil! They’re on the look-out for smugglers. They won’t get us, they’ve sailed too far off. Don’t be frightened, lad, they won’t catch us. Now we—” Chelkash looked triumphantly round. “It’s over, we’ve rowed out of reach! Phe-ew! Come, you’re in luck, you block-head!”

Gavrila sat mute; he rowed, and breathing hard, looked askance where that fiery sword still rose and sank. He was utterly unable to believe Chelkash that it was only a reflector. The cold, blue brilliance, that cut through the darkness and made the sea gleam with silver light, had something about it inexplicable, portentous, and Gavrila now fell into a trance of miserable terror. He rowed automatically, huddled up as though expecting a blow from above, and there was no thought, no desire in him now, he was empty and soulless. The emotions of that night had gnawed away at last all that was human in him.

But Chelkash was triumphant again. His nerves, accustomed to strain, had already relaxed. His mustaches twitched voluptuously, and there was an eager light in his eyes. He felt splendid, whistled through his