"Come and cure him!" said they.
Now Zhilin knew nothing at all about curing. Nevertheless, he went, looked at the man, and thought: "Who knows, perhaps he may get well by himself!" So he went back to the outhouse, got water and sand, and mixed them both together. Then he whispered something over the water in the Tatar's presence and gave him the mixture to drink. Fortunately for him the Tatar recovered. Then Zhilin began to stand very high indeed in their opinion. And these Tatars, who had got used to him, used to cry, "Ivan! Ivan!" whenever they wanted him, and all of them treated him as if he were some pet domestic animal.
But the red-bearded Tatar did not like Zhilin. Whenever he saw him he would frown and turn away, even if he didn't scold him outright. Now these Tatars hail an old chief who did not live in the aul but up in the mountains. The only time when he saw Zhilin was when he came to pray to God in the mosque. He was small in stature, and a white handkerchief was always wound around his turban, his beard and moustaches were clipped short and as white as down, his face was red like a brick and wrinkled. He had the curved nose of a vulture, grey evil eyes, and no teeth, except a couple of fangs. He used to come in his turban, leaning on his crutch, and glaring about him like an old wolf. Whenever he saw Zhilin he began to snarl and turned away.
Once Zhilin went up the mountain to see how the old chief lived. As he went along a little path he
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