"if they overtake us they'll kill us, and that will be worst of all."
Kostuilin said nothing. He came on puffing and blowing. For a long time they went down hill. They listened—the dogs were barking on their right. Zhilin stopped and looked about him. He went to the mountain-side and felt it with his hands.
"Oh!" said he, "we have made a mistake; we turned to the right. Here is another aul, I could see it from the mountain-top, we must go back—to the left—up the mountain. There is sure to be a road there."
"Just wait a little," said Kostuilin; "do give me time to breathe a bit—my feet are all bloody."
"Look alive, my brother! Spring a little more lightly—that's the whole trick!"
And Zhilin ran back to the left towards the mountain and into the wood. Kostuilin remained all behind, groaning and gasping.
Zhilin kept urging him to be quicker, but went on himself without stopping.
They ascended the mountain. Yes—there, right enough, was the wood. They entered the wood—and all that was left of their clothing was quickly torn to bits. Then they hit upon a path in the wood, and went steadily on.
Stop! The sound of hoofs resounded on the road. They stopped and listened. There was a stamping as of a horse, and then it stopped. They moved on again—the stamping recommenced. They stopped—and the stamping stopped. Zhilin crept forward and looked along the road in the light—
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