with his heel, and tightly gripping several twigs, stands on it. . . . Having got his balance, and established himself in his new position, he bends down, and trying not to get the water into his mouth begins fumbling with his right hand among the roots. Getting entangled among the weeds and slipping on the mossy roots, he finds his hand in contact with the sharp pincers of a crayfish.
"As though we wanted to see you, you demon!" says Lubim, and he angrily flings the crayfish on the bank.
At last his hand feels Gerassim's arm, and groping its way along it comes to something cold and slimy.
"Here he is!" says Lubim with a grin. "A fine fellow! Move your fingers, I'll get him directly . . . by the gills. Stop, don't prod me with your elbow. . . . I'll have him in a minute, in a minute, only let me get hold of him. . . . The beggar has got a long way under the roots, there is nothing to get hold of. . . . One can't get to the head . . . one can only feel its belly. . . . Kill that gnat on my neck—it's stinging! I'll get him by the gills, directly. . . . Come to one side and give him a push! Poke him with your finger!"
The hunchback puffs out his cheeks, holds his breath, opens his eyes wide, and apparently has already got his fingers in the gills, but at that moment the twigs to which he is holding on with his left hand break, and losing his balance he plops into the water! Eddies race away from
