, he made a ludicrous figure. His face was grave and severe.
He looked angrily at the water, as though he were just going to
upbraid it for having given him cold in the Donets and robbed him
of his voice.

"And why don't you bathe?" Yegorushka asked Vassya.

"Oh, I don't care for it, . . ." answered Vassya.

"How is it your chin is swollen?"

"It's bad. . . . I used to work at the match factory, little sir.
. . . The doctor used to say that it would make my jaw rot. The air
is not healthy there. There were three chaps beside me who had their
jaws swollen, and with one of them it rotted away altogether."

Styopka soon came back with the net. Dymov and Kiruha were already
turning blue and getting hoarse by being so long in the water, but
they set about fishing eagerly. First they went to a deep place
beside the reeds; there Dymov was up to his neck, while the water
went over squat Kiruha's head. The latter spluttered and blew
bubbles, while Dymov stumbling on the prickly roots, fell over and
got caught in the net; both flopped about in the water, and made a
noise, and nothing but mischief came of their fishing.

"It's deep," croaked Kiruha. "You won't catch anything."

"Don't tug, you devil!" shouted Dymov trying to put the net in the
proper position. "Hold it up."

"You won't catch anything here," Panteley shouted from the bank.
"You are only frightening the fish, you stupids! Go more to the
left! It's shallower there!"

Once a big fish gleamed above the net; they all drew a breath, and
Dymov struck the place where it had vanished with his fist, and his
face expressed vexation.

"Ugh!" cried Panteley, and he stamped his foot. "You've let the
perch slip! It's gone!"

Moving more to the left, Dymov and Kiruha picked out a shallower
place, and then fishing began in earnest. They had wandered off
some hundred paces from the waggons; they could be seen silently
trying to go as deep as they could and as near the reeds, moving
their legs a little at a time, drawing out the nets, beating the
water with their fists to drive them towards the nets. From the
reeds they got to the further bank; they drew the net out, then,
with a disappointed air, lifting their knees high as they walked,
went back into the reeds. They were talking about something, but
what it was no one could hear. The sun was scorching their backs,
the flies were stinging them, and their bodies had turned from
purple to crimson. Styopka was walking af