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What a lot of money!" and he sighed dejectedly. "We'll have a jolly good spree, my lad!" Chelkash cried ecstatically. "Eh, we've enough to. Never fear, mate, I'll give you your share. I'll give you forty, eh? Satisfied? If you like, I'll give it you now!" "If you don't mind. Well? I wouldn't say no!"
He was followed by retorts in the same vein. "I say, Grishka, what good care they do take of you! Made your inspection, eh?" shouted one out of a group of dockers, who had finished dinner and were lying on the ground, resting. "I'm barefoot, so here's Semyonitch watching that I shouldn't graze my foot on anything," answered Chelkash. They reached the gates.
It seemed to Gavrilo that he would die that moment. "Hi! Asleep? Hold it! Carefully!" sounded the hollow voice of Chelkash. From the wall something cubical and heavy was let down. Gavrilo took it into the boat. Something else like it followed.
"Did you take the notes?" he filtered through his teeth. "I didn't touch them, brother! I didn't want them! there's ill-luck from them!" Chelkash thrust his hand into his jacket pocket, drew out a bundle of notes, put one rainbow-colored note back in his pocket, and handed all the rest to Gavrilo. "Take them and go!" "I won't take them, brother. I can't! Forgive me!"
You didn't do your job for nothing, I suppose. Take it, don't be frightened! Don't be ashamed of having nearly killed a man! For people like me, no one will make much inquiry. They'll say thank you, indeed, when they know of it. There, take it! No one will ever know what you've done, and it deserves a reward. Come, now!" Gavrilo saw that Chelkash was laughing, and he felt relieved.
He rowed automatically, with pale face, 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 swallowed up at last all that was human in him. But Chelkash was triumphant again; complete success! all anxiety at an end! His nerves, accustomed to strain, relaxed, returned to the normal.
"Mishka, indeed, who's Mishka? I don't know any Mishka. Get along, mate! or the inspector'll see you, he'll " "The red-haired fellow that I worked with last time on the 'Kostroma'?" Chelkash persisted. "That you steal with, you'd better say. He's been taken to the hospital, your Mishka; his foot was crushed by an iron bar.
And all these feelings in the end melted in Chelkash into one a fatherly sense of proprietorship in him. He felt sorry for the boy, and the boy was necessary to him.
Like iron ringing. I'll wet it with some water in a minute." "Why? You'd better wet your inside, that may get rid of it. You can do that at once." He held out a bottle to Gavrilo. "Eh? Lord bless you!" There was a faint sound of swallowing. "Aye! aye! like it? Enough!" Chelkash stopped him. The boat darted on again, noiselessly and lightly threading its way among the vessels.
With a vigorous turn of the rudder Chelkash drove the boat into a strip of water between two barks, and they darted rapidly over the smooth surface, that kindled into bluish phosphorescent light under the strokes of the oars. Behind the boat's stern lay a winding ribbon of this phosphorescence, broad and quivering. "Well, how's your head, aching?" asked Chelkash, smiling. "Awfully!
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