"Why, what is all this, my brothers?" cried Ivan, and raised and wrung his hands; "why, I've only got to pull the burning stuff from under the roof and trample it out!"
He would have called out, but his breath failed him, he could not utter a sound. He would have run—his legs did not move—they clave together. He tottered on a step or two and down he fell, his breath again failing him. He stood up and gasped and went on again. By the time he had gone the round of the barn and got to the fire the side barn was now all ablaze, the corner of the hut had also caught, and the door too, and out of the hut rolled waves of fire; there was no getting at it. A lot of people came running up, but nothing could be done. The neighbours drew their own things out of the reach of the fire, and drove their cattle out of their yards. Gabriel's barns now also caught the fire from Ivan's; the wind arose and whirled right down the street. It swept away half the village like a broom.
All they could pull out of Ivan's hut was the old man, the rest leaped out as best they could and left everything. Except the horses in their night-quarters all the cattle were burned; the fowls were burned on their perches; the carts, the ploughs, the harrows, the women's things, the bread in the cupboards, everything was burned.
Gabriel's live stock was driven out, and they managed to snatch a thing or two of his from the flames.
The burning lasted a long time, all night through in fact. Ivan stood outside his courtyard and looked
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