pray, saw five of my seven comrades rush past, pushing and
jostling, as they made for the shore. But presently the Morduine turned
and halted beside me, with the intention of rendering Ossip assistance.

"Run, you young fools!" the latter exclaimed. "Come! Be off with you!"

Somehow in his face there was now a livid, uncertain air, while his
eyes had lost their fire, and his mouth was curiously agape.

"No, mate. Do YOU get up," was my counter-adjuration.

"Unfortunately, I have hurt my leg," he replied with his head bent
down. "In fact, I am not sure that I can get up."

However, we contrived to raise him and carry him ashore with an arm of
his resting on each of our necks. Meanwhile he growled with chattering
teeth:

"Aha, you river devils! Drown me if you can! But I've not given you a
chance, the Lord be thanked! Hi, look out! The ice won't bear the three
of us. Mind how you step, and choose places where the ice is bare of
snow. There it's firmer. No, a better plan still would be to leave me
where I am."

Next, with a frowning scrutiny of my face, he inquired:

"That notebook of our misdeeds--hasn't it had a wetting and got done
for?"

That very moment, as we stepped from the stranded floe (in grounding,
it had crushed and shattered a small boat), such part of it as lay in
the water gave a loud crack, and, swaying to and fro, and emitting a
gurgling sound, floated clear of the rest.

"Ah!" was the Morduine's quizzical comment. "YOU knew well enough what
needed to be done."

Wet, and chilled to the bone, though relieved in spirit, we stepped
ashore to find a crowd of townspeople in conversation with Boev and the
old soldier. And as we deposited our charge under the lea of a pile of
logs he shouted cheerfully:

"Mates, Makarei's notebook is done for, soaked through!" And since the
notebook in question was weighing upon my breast like a brick, I pulled
it out unseen, and hurled it far into the river with a plop like that
of a frog.

As for the Diatlovs, they lost no time in setting out in search of
vodka in the tavern on the hill, and slapped one another on the back as
they ran, and could be heard shouting, "Hurrah, hurrah!"

Upon this, a tall old man with the beard of an apostle and the eyes of
a brigand muttered:

"Infidels, why disturb peaceful folk like this? You ought to be
thrashed!"

Whereupon Boev, who was changing his clothes, retorted:

"What do you mean by 'disturb'?"

"Besides," put