s took part in children's
games and disputes. No sooner had his master turned his back or
gone to sleep than Deniska would begin doing something such as
hopping on one leg or throwing stones. It was hard for any grown-up
person, seeing the genuine enthusiasm with which he frolicked about
in the society of children, to resist saying, "What a baby!" Children,
on the other hand, saw nothing strange in the invasion of their
domain by the big coachman. "Let him play," they thought, "as long
as he doesn't fight!" In the same way little dogs see nothing strange
in it when a simple-hearted big dog joins their company uninvited
and begins playing with them.

Deniska outstripped Yegorushka, and was evidently very much pleased
at having done so. He winked at him, and to show that he could hop
on one leg any distance, suggested to Yegorushka that he should hop
with him along the road and from there, without resting, back to
the chaise. Yegorushka declined this suggestion, for he was very
much out of breath and exhausted.

All at once Deniska looked very grave, as he did not look even when
Kuzmitchov gave him a scolding or threatened him with a stick;
listening intently, he dropped quietly on one knee and an expression
of sternness and alarm came into his face, such as one sees in
people who hear heretical talk. He fixed his eyes on one spot,
raised his hand curved into a hollow, and suddenly fell on his
stomach on the ground and slapped the hollow of his hand down upon
the grass.

"Caught!" he wheezed triumphantly, and, getting up, lifted a big
grasshopper to Yegorushka's eyes.

The two boys stroked the grasshopper's broad green back with their
fingers and touched his antenna, supposing that this would please
the creature. Then Deniska caught a fat fly that had been sucking
blood and offered it to the grasshopper. The latter moved his huge
jaws, that were like the visor of a helmet, with the utmost unconcern,
as though he had been long acquainted with Deniska, and bit off the
fly's stomach. They let him go. With a flash of the pink lining of
his wings, he flew down into the grass and at once began his churring
notes again. They let the fly go, too. It preened its wings, and
without its stomach flew off to the horses.

A loud sigh was heard from under the chaise. It was Kuzmitchov
waking up. He quickly raised his head, looked uneasily into the
distance, and from that look, which passed by Yegorushka and Deniska
without sympa