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They hacked at the merchants so that there was not a sound place left on their bodies; when they had finished they dragged both of them off the road, the father to one side and the son to the other. Opposite that cross there is another cross on this side. . . . Whether it is still standing, I don't know. . . . I can't see from here. . . ." "It is," said Kiruha.
A man in a white cap and a suit of cheap grey material, mounted on a little Cossack stallion, was talking to Dymov and Kiruha beside the foremost waggon. A mile and a half ahead there were long low white barns and little houses with tiled roofs; there were neither yards nor trees to be seen beside the little houses. "What village is that, Grandfather?" asked Yegorushka.
A little on one side Kiruha and Vassya, with eyes reddened from the smoke, were sitting cleaning the fish. Before them lay the net covered with slime and water weeds, and on it lay gleaming fish and crawling crayfish.
The latter spluttered and blew bubbles, while Dymov stumbling on the prickly roots, fell over and got caught in the net; both flopped about in the water, and made a noise, and nothing but mischief came of their fishing. "It's deep," croaked Kiruha. "You won't catch anything." "Don't tug, you devil!" shouted Dymov trying to put the net in the proper position. "Hold it up."
"Every man to his own taste. . . . You drink out of the pail well, drink, and may it do you good. . . ." "You darling, you beauty!" Vassya said suddenly, in a caressing, plaintive voice. "You darling!" His eyes were fixed on the distance; they were moist and smiling, and his face wore the same expression as when he had looked at Yegorushka. "Who is it you are talking to?" asked Kiruha.
And as ill-luck would have it, Dymov at that moment caught sight of Yegorushka, who had climbed down from the waggon and gone up to the well. He laughed aloud and shouted: "I say, lads, the old man has been brought to bed of a boy in the night!" Kiruha laughed his bass laugh till he coughed.
"Shall I put in some fat?" asked Styopka, skimming off the froth. "No need. The fish will make its own gravy," answered Kiruha. Before taking the cauldron off the fire Styopka scattered into the water three big handfuls of millet and a spoonful of salt; finally he tried it, smacked his lips, licked the spoon, and gave a self-satisfied grunt, which meant that the grain was done.
Then someone at the head of the waggons shouted: "Kiruha! Sta-art!" The foremost of the waggons creaked, then the second, then the third. . . . Yegorushka felt the waggon he was on sway and creak also. The waggons were moving.
Before the camp fire had been lighted, when he could still see things at a distance, Yegorushka had noticed that there was a similar old slanting cross on the other side of the great road. Coming back with the water, Kiruha and Vassya filled the cauldron and fixed it over the fire.
In one place the reeds were shaking and nodding, with their flowers rustling Styopka and Kiruha were hunting crayfish. "A crayfish, look, lads! A crayfish!" Kiruha cried triumphantly and actually showed a crayfish. Yegorushka swam up to the reeds, dived, and began fumbling among their roots.
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