Where have you got to? Where are you
taking me to?"

"Why, don't you see? It's a forest!"

"It certainly is a forest," thought the surveyor. "I was frightened!
But it won't do to betray my feelings. . . . He has noticed already
that I am in a funk. Why is it he has taken to looking round at me
so often? He is plotting something for certain. . . . At first he
drove like a snail and now how he is dashing along!"

"I say, Klim, why are you making the horse go like that?"

"I am not making her go. She is racing along of herself. . . . Once
she gets into a run there is no means of stopping her. It's no
pleasure to her that her legs are like that."

"You are lying, my man, I see that you are lying. Only I advise you
not to drive so fast. Hold your horse in a bit. . . . Do you hear?
Hold her in!"

"What for?"

"Why . . . why, because four comrades were to drive after me from
the station. We must let them catch us up. . . . They promised to
overtake us in this forest. It will be more cheerful in their
company. . . . They are a strong, sturdy set of fellows. . . . And
each of them has got a pistol. Why do you keep looking round and
fidgeting as though you were sitting on thorns? eh? I, my good
fellow, er . . . my good fellow . . . there is no need to look
around at me . . . there is nothing interesting about me. . . .
Except perhaps the revolvers. Well, if you like I will take them
out and show you. . . ."

The surveyor made a pretence of feeling in his pockets and at that
moment something happened which he could not have expected with all
his cowardice. Klim suddenly rolled off the cart and ran as fast
as he could go into the forest.

"Help!" he roared. "Help! Take the horse and the cart, you devil,
only don't take my life. Help!"

There was the sound of footsteps hurriedly retreating, of twigs
snapping--and all was still. . . . The surveyor had not expected
such a _denouement_. He first stopped the horse and then settled
himself more comfortably in the cart and fell to thinking.

"He has run off . . . he was scared, the fool. Well, what's to be
done now? I can't go on alone because I don't know the way; besides
they may think I have stolen his horse. . . . What's to be done?"

"Klim! Klim," he cried.

"Klim," answered the echo.

At the thought that he would have to sit through the whole night
in the cold and dark forest and hear nothing but the wolves, the
echo, and the snorting of the scraggy mare, the sur