the mother's face, she solicitously drove them away.

Rybin came up and asked:

"Is she asleep?"

"Yes."

He was silent for a moment, looked fixedly at the calm sleeping face,
and said softly:

"She is probably the first mother who has followed in the footsteps of
her son--the first."

"Let's not disturb her; let's go away," suggested Sofya.

"Well, we have to work. I'd like to have a chat with you; but we'll
put it off until evening. Come, boys."

CHAPTER IV

The three men walked away, leaving Sofya in the cabin. Then from a
distance came the sound of the ax blows, the echo straying through the
foliage. In a half-dreamy condition of repose, intoxicated with the
spicy odor of the forest, Sofya sat just outside the door, humming a
song, and watching the approach of evening, which gradually enfolded
the forest. Her gray eyes smiled softly at some one. The reddening
rays of the sun fell more and more aslant. The busy chirping of the
birds died away. The forest darkened, and seemed to grow denser. The
trees moved in more closely about the choked-up glade, and gave it a
more friendly embrace, covering it with shadows. Cows were lowing in
the distance. The tar men came, all four together, content that the
work was ended.

Awakened by their voices the mother walked out from the cabin, yawning
and smiling. Rybin was calmer and less gloomy. The surplus of his
excitement was drowned in exhaustion.

"Ignaty," he said, "let's have our tea. We do housekeeping here by
turns. To-day Ignaty provides us with food and drink."

"To-day I'd be glad to yield my turn," remarked Ignaty, gathering up
pieces of wood and branches for an open-air fire.

"We're all interested in our guests," said Yefim, sitting down by
Sofya's side.

"I'll help you," said Yakob softly.

He brought out a big loaf of bread baked in hot ashes, and began to cut
it and place the pieces on the table.

"Listen!" exclaimed Yefim. "Do you hear that cough?"

Rybin listened, and nodded.

"Yes, he's coming," he said to Sofya. "The witness is coming. I would
lead him through cities, put him in public squares, for the people to
hear him. He always says the same thing. But everybody ought to hear
it."

The shadows grew closer, the twilight thickened, and the voices sounded
softer. Sofya and the mother watched the actions of the peasants.
They all moved slowly and heavily with a strange sort of cautiousness.
They, too, const