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"And look alive there, and make for the bank." "Aye, and a fine Easter Day it will be for us on THAT bank!" growled Sashok.
In a gap of blue between the clouds there was shining the March sun, and everywhere the ice was sparkling as though in derision of ourselves. Shading his eyes, Ossip gazed at the dissolving river, and said: "Yes, it IS rising but that will not last for long." "No, but long enough to make us miss the festival," grumbled Sashok.
Meanwhile our men worked with industry and speed, but not without a fault or two, for their thoughts were fixed upon the town and its washhouses and churches. And particularly restless was Sashok Diatlov, a man whose hair, as flaxen as that of his brother, seemed to have been boiled in lye.
Rising, then doffing his cap and making the sign of the cross in the direction of the town, he said with a quiet, simple, yet somehow authoritative, air: "Very well, my mates. Go in peace, and may the Lord go with you!" "But whither?" asked Sashok, leaping to his feet. "To the town?" "Whither else?"
I will walk first, and next there must come well, which is the heaviest? you, soldier, and then Mokei, and then the Morduine, and then Boev, and then Mishuk, and then Sashok, and then Makarei, the lightest of all. And do you all take off your caps before starting, and say a prayer to the Mother of God. Ha! Here is Old Father Sun coming out to greet us."
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