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The servant was barefooted; he was wearing a red shirt; a cap without a brim was stuck on the back of his head, and on a stick he was carrying Opanas' new boots, which were dripping tar all over the dam.
"What a hurry he's in!" thought the miller. "He's got hold of the boots already. But never mind, all my hopes are centred on him now."
As soon as the servant caught sight of a stranger on the dam he instantly thought that here was some thieving tramp waiting to steal his boots. So he stopped a few steps from Khapun and said:
"You'd better not come any nearer, I warn you! I won't give them up!"
"What's the matter with you? Come to your senses, good man! Haven't I boots of my own? Look, they are better than yours!"
"Then why have you planted yourself there by night, like a crooked willow tree by a pond?"
"Well, you see, I wanted to ask you a question."
"Splendid! A riddle is it, eh? Who told you I could answer riddles better than any one else?"
"Ha, ha, I've heard people say so!"
The soldier set down his boots, took out his tobacco-pouch, and began filling his pipe. Then he struck a light with a flint, and, blowing out a thick cloud of smoke from under his nose, said:
