e
little windows one, covered on the inside with something red, was
lighted up.

What sort of place was it? Yergunov remembered that to the right
of the road, three and a half or four miles from the hospital, there
was Andrey Tchirikov's tavern. He remembered, too, that this
Tchirikov, who had been lately killed by some sledge-drivers, had
left a wife and a daughter called Lyubka, who had come to the
hospital two years before as a patient. The inn had a bad reputation,
and to visit it late in the evening, and especially with someone
else's horse, was not free from risk. But there was no help for it.
Yergunov fumbled in his knapsack for his revolver, and, coughing
sternly, tapped at the window-frame with his whip.

"Hey! who is within?" he cried. "Hey, granny! let me come in and
get warm!"

With a hoarse bark a black dog rolled like a ball under the horse's
feet, then another white one, then another black one--there must
have been a dozen of them. Yergunov looked to see which was the
biggest, swung his whip and lashed at it with all his might. A
small, long-legged puppy turned its sharp muzzle upwards and set
up a shrill, piercing howl.

Yergunov stood for a long while at the window, tapping. But at last
the hoar-frost on the trees near the house glowed red, and a muffled
female figure appeared with a lantern in her hands.

"Let me in to get warm, granny," said Yergunov. "I was driving to
the hospital, and I have lost my way. It's such weather, God preserve
us. Don't be afraid; we are your own people, granny."

"All my own people are at home, and we didn't invite strangers,"
said the figure grimly. "And what are you knocking for? The gate
is not locked."

Yergunov drove into the yard and stopped at the steps.

"Bid your labourer take my horse out, granny," said he.

"I am not granny."

And indeed she was not a granny. While she was putting out the
lantern the light fell on her face, and Yergunov saw black eyebrows,
and recognized Lyubka.

"There are no labourers about now," she said as she went into the
house. "Some are drunk and asleep, and some have been gone to Ryepino
since the morning. It's a holiday. . . ."

As he fastened his horse up in the shed, Yergunov heard a neigh,
and distinguished in the darkness another horse, and felt on it a
Cossack saddle. So there must be someone else in the house besides
the woman and her daughter. For greater security Yergunov unsaddled
his horse, and when he went