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The wind came from the left, insistently blowing over to one side the mane on Mukhorty's sleek neck and carrying aside even his fluffy tail, which was tied in a simple knot. Nikita's wide coat-collar, as he sat on the windy side, pressed close to his cheek and nose. 'This road doesn't give him a chance it's too snowy, said Vasili Andreevich, who prided himself on his good horse.
All he could see through the whirling darkness was Mukhorty's dark head, his back covered by the fluttering drugget, and his thick knotted tail; while all round, in front and behind, was the same fluctuating whity darkness, sometimes seeming to get a little lighter and sometimes growing denser still. 'A pity I listened to Nikita, he thought. 'We ought to have driven on.
He seized Mukhorty's neck, but that too was shaking all over and the terrible cry grew still more frightful. For some seconds Vasili Andreevich could not collect himself or understand what was happening. It was only that Mukhorty, whether to encourage himself or to call for help, had neighed loudly and resonantly. 'Ugh, you wretch! How you frightened me, damn you! thought Vasili Andreevich.
At any cost he had to avoid that terror, and to keep it away he must do something occupy himself with something. And the first thing he did was to turn his back to the wind and open his fur coat. The first thing that occurred to him was to free Mukhorty's leg from the rein.
So they went on in silence for about ten minutes. Suddenly Vasili Andreevich began saying something. 'Eh, what? asked Nikita, opening his eyes. Vasili Andreevich did not answer, but bent over, looking behind them and then ahead of the horse. The sweat had curled Mukhorty's coat between his legs and on his neck. He went at a walk. 'What is it? Nikita asked again. 'What is it?
About seven yards farther on he managed with difficulty to crawl up the incline on all fours, then he followed the edge of the hollow back to the place where the horse should have been. He could not see either horse or sledge, but as he walked against the wind he heard Vasili Andreevich's shouts and Mukhorty's neighing, calling him. 'I'm coming! I'm coming! What are you cackling for? he muttered.
Yet it was necessary for him to get up because Ivan Matveich, the police-officer, would soon call for him and he had to go with him either to bargain for the forest or to put Mukhorty's breeching straight. He asked his wife: 'Nikolaevna, hasn't he come yet? 'No, he hasn't, she replied. He heard someone drive up to the front steps. 'It must be him. 'No, he's gone past. 'Nikolaevna!
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