"The wood is bound to show up immediately," thought Vasily Andreich, and, excited by the vodka and the tea, he never stopped, but kept twitching the reins, and the good, humble horse obeyed him, and went now at a walking pace and now at a jog-trot in the direction they were sending him, although he knew very well that they were not at all sending him in the direction they ought to have gone. Ten minutes passed by and still there was no sign of a road.
"There now, we have lost our way again!" said Vasily Andreich, stopping the horse.
Nikita slipped softly out of the sledge, and holding fast his khalat, which now clung tightly to him from the impact of the wind, and now was wrenched away from him and fluttered behind him, began picking his way through the snow, going first in one direction and then in another. Three times he was quite hidden from view. At last he returned, and took the reins out of the hands of Vasily Andreich.
"We must go to the right," said he, sternly and decidedly, turning the horse round.
"To the right? Very well, to the right, by all means!" said Vasily Andreich, giving up the reins and thrusting his benumbed hands down his long sleeves. "If only we were back in Grishkino," said he.
Nikita answered not a word.
"Now, my little friend, put your shoulder to it!" shrieked he to the horse; but the horse, despite the shaking of the reins, only went at a foot-pace. The snow in some places was up to its knees, and the
41
