nd there death would be waiting--eternity--the great mystery, on with
friendliness, watching how Yanson's fingers took the cigarette, how the
match flared, and then how the blue smoke issued from Yanson's mouth.

"Thanks," said Yanson; "it's good."

"How strange!" said Sergey.

"What is strange?" Werner turned around. "What is strange?"

"I mean--the cigarette."

Yanson held a cigarette, an ordinary cigarette, in his ordinary live
hands, and, pale-faced, looked at it with surprise, even with terror.
And all fixed their eyes upon the little tube, from the end of which
smoke was issuing, like a bluish ribbon, wafted aside by the breathing,
with the ashes, gathering, turning black. The light went out.

"The light's out," said Tanya.

"Yes, the light's out."

"Let it go," said Werner, frowning, looking uneasily at Yanson, whose
hand, holding the cigarette, was hanging loosely, as if dead. Suddenly
Tsiganok turned quickly, bent over to Werner, close to him, face to
face, and rolling the whites of his eyes, like a horse, whispered:

"Master, how about the convoys? Suppose we--we? Shall we try?"

"No, don't do it," Werner replied, also in a whisper. "We shall drink it
to the bitter end."

"Why not? It's livelier in a fight! Eh? I strike him, he strikes me, and
you don't even know how the thing is done. It's just as if you don't die
at all."

"No, you shouldn't do it," said Werner, and turned to Yanson. "Why don't
you smoke, friend?"

Suddenly Yanson's wizened face became wofully wrinkled, as if somebody
had pulled strings which set all the wrinkles in motion. And, as in a
dream, he began to whimper, without tears, in a dry, strained voice:

"I don't want to smoke. Aha! aha! aha! Why should I be hanged? Aha! aha!
aha!"

They began to bustle about him. Tanya Kovalchuk, weeping freely, petted
him on the arm, and adjusted the drooping earlaps of his worn fur cap.

"My dear, do not cry! My own! my dear! Poor, unfortunate little fellow!"

Musya looked aside. Tsiganok caught her glance and grinned, showing his
teeth.

"What a queer fellow! He drinks tea, and yet feels cold," he said, with
an abrupt laugh. But suddenly his own face became bluish-black, like
cast-iron, and his large yellow teeth flashed.

Suddenly the little cars trembled and slackened their speed. All, except
Yanson and Kashirin, rose and sat down again quickly.

"Here is the station," said Sergey.

It seemed to them as if all the air had bee