the nuts tightened, the verst-posts newly painted, and the order was given that some fine yellow sand be strewn over the crossings. A track-woman even drove her old man out of the nearest watch-house, which he almost never left, in order to trim a little the tiny grass-plot. Semen worked a whole week to bring everything into first-rate order, even mended his coat and burnished his brass shield till it shone. Vasili also worked hard.
At last the division master arrived in a buzzing draisine (hand car), worked by four men and making twenty versts an hour. It came flying toward Semen's watch-house, and Semen sprang forward and reported in military fashion. Everything appeared to be correct.
"Are you long here?" asked the master.
"Since the second of May, your honor.'
"Very well, thank you. And who is at Number 164?"
The track-master who rode with him on the draisine replied: "Vasili Spiridov."
"Spiridov, Spiridov— Oh, the one you reported?"
"The very same."
"Very well, let us have a look at Vasili Spiridov. Go ahead."
The workmen leaned upon the handles and the draisine flew farther. "There will be a fight between them and the neighbor," thought Semen, looking after the disappearing draisine.
About two hours later Semen went on his rounds. He saw that some one was coming toward him, walk-
