it the whir of a woodcock's wings. He could also hear, not far behind him, a strange splashing in the water, but what it was he could not make out. Choosing a place for his feet, he moved toward the dog.
"Go on."
Not a snipe, but a woodcock, flew up from under the dog's nose. Levin raised his gun, but at the instant he aimed the same noise of splashing in the water grew louder and nearer, and together with it Veslovsky's voice loudly shouting something. Levin saw that he was aiming too far behind the woodcock, but still he fired.
Turning round to discover what made the noise. Levin saw that the horses attached to the katki were no longer in the road, but were in the swamp.
Veslovsky, desirous of watching the shooting, had driven down to the swamp and had entangled the horses.
"The devil take him," said Levin to himself, turning back to the entangled horses.
"Why did you drive in so far?" he asked dryly; and, summoning the coachman, he began to disengage the horses.
Levin was vexed because they had caused him to miss his shot, but still more so because neither Stepan Arkadyevitch nor Veslovsky would help him to unharness and get out the team; but the reason for this was that they had not the slightest comprehension of the art of harnessing.
Not vouchsafing Vasenka a single word in answer to his assurance that where he stood it was perfectly dry, Levin silently worked with the coachman to unhitch the horses. But afterward, warming up to the work, and noticing how zealously and assiduously Veslovsky dragged at the katki by its side and even broke a part of it off, Levin blamed himself because, under the influence of the feeling which he had had the evening before, he had been too cool toward Veslovsky, and he tried by especial friendliness to atone for his curtness.
When everything was brought to order again and the teams were on the highway, Levin gave orders to get the luncheon ready.
