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Updated: September 1, 2025
At last I managed to scramble in. We tore up two boards from the bottom, and using these as oars, I paddled away as fast as I could. Clouds sailed rapidly over our heads; around, and underneath the boat, waves splashed furiously. Shakro sat aft.
Life is a heavy burden for these lonely souls. Helplessly they drift hither and thither. They are like the good seed, wafted in the air, and dropping but rarely onto fruitful soil. Daylight had broken. The sea far away shone with rosy gold. "I am sleepy," said Shakro. We halted. He lay down in a trench, which the fierce gusts of wind had dug out in the dry sand, near the shore.
Two of the shepherds were rolling on the ground, convulsed with laughter, while the older man, with a serious, immovable face, tried to clap his hands in time to the dancing, but could not succeed in doing so. He watched attentively every movement of the dancing Shakro, while he nodded his head, and exclaimed in a deep bass voice: "He! He'! That's right! He'! He'!"
We were already in Olga Street, and Shakro was whistling boldly. "Maxime, do you see that bridge over yonder? The train stops there. Go and wait for me there, please. I want first to go and ask a friend, who lives close by, about my father and mother." "You won't be long, will you?" "Only a minute. Not more!" * A kind of hood worn by men to keep their ears warm.
The few bits of money that Shakro gained by begging made but little difference in the state of our affairs, for his belly was a bottomless pit, which swallowed everything that fell in its way; grapes, melons, salt fish, bread, or dried fruit; and as time went on he seemed to need ever more and more food.
At any other time this splendid, strong, flashing steamer would have set me thinking of the creative genius of man, who could thus enslave the elements. But now, beside me lay an untamed element in the shape of a man. We were tramping now through the district of Terek. Shakro was indescribably ragged and dishevelled.
With an angry crash a board was torn from my hand, forcing me to throw the other into the boat, and to hold on tight with both hands to the gunwale. Every time the boat was thrown upward, Shakro shrieked wildly. As for me, I felt wretched and helpless, in the darkness, surrounded with angry waves, whose noise deafened me.
And while I reflected thus, I felt very uneasy as to the chief point in every adventure the end of it. When Shakro had finished dancing, he also sat down by the fire, wrapped up in the overcoat. He was already eating, while he stared at me with his black eyes, which had a gleam in them of something I did not like.
He knit his brow, and beckoned the peasant to approach; then, with a blow of his dagger, he severed the man's head from his body. Drawing his pistol, he shot the white horse in the ear. He then delivered himself up to justice, and was condemned to penal servitude. Through the whole story there rang a note of pity for the prince. I endeavored to make Shakro understand that his pity was misplaced.
We could hardly bold our seats; the rope was cutting my leg desperately. As far as one could see there was nothing but immense waves, rising mountains high, only to disappear again noisily. I repeated my advice to Shakro in a tone of command. He fell to butting me more violently than ever. There was no time to be lost.
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