Chapter 4

Untitled Anarchism The Cutting of the Forest Chapter 4

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" Ah, I have forgotten my pipe. That's bad, brothers," repeated Velenchuk.

" You ought to smoke cigars, dear man ! " remarked Chikin, screwing up his mouth and winking. " I always smoke cigars at home ; they are sweeter."

Of course, everybody rolled in laughter.

" So you forgot your pipe," interrupted Maksimov, not paying any attention to the general merriment, and, with the air of a superior, proudly knocking out the ashes by striking the pipe against the palm of his left hand. " What have you been doing there ? Eh, Velenchuk ? "

Velenchuk turned half-aroimd to him, put his hand to his cap, and then dropped it.

"You evidently did not get enough sleep yesterday, and so you are now falling asleep standing. You won't get any reward for such behavior."

" May I be torn up on the spot, Fedor Maksimych, if I have had a drop in my mouth ; I do not know myself what is the matter with me," replied Velenchuk. " What occasion did I have to get drunk ? " he muttered.

" That's it. One has to be responsible for you fellows before the authorities, and you keep it up all the time, — it is disgusting," concluded eloquent Maksimov, but in a calmer tone.

" It is really wonderful, brothers," continued Velenchuk, after a moment's silence, scratching the back of his head, and not addressing any one in particular. " Really, it is wonderful, brothers ! Here I have been sixteen years in

the service, and such a thing has never happened to me before. When we were ordered to get ready for the march, I got up as usual, — there was nothing the matter ; but suddenly it caught me in the park — it caught me and threw me down on the ground, and that was all — And I myself do not know how I fell asleep, brothers ! It must be the sleeping disease," he concluded.

" Yes, I had a hard time waking you," said Antdnov, pulling on his boot. " I kept pushing and pushing you, as though you were a log ! "

" I say," remarked Velenchvlk, " just as though I were drunk — "

" There was a woman at home," began Chikin, " who had not left the oven bed for at least two years. They began to wake her once, thinking that she was asleep, but they found she was dead, — though her death resem- bled sleep. Yes, my dear man ! "

" Just tell us, Chikin, how you put on style when you had your leave of absence," said Maksimov, smiling and looking at me, as though to say, " Would you not like to hear the story of a foolish man ? "

" What style, Maksimych ? " said Chikin, casting a cursory side glance at me. " I just told them all about the Caucasus."

" Of course, of course ! Don't be so shy — tell us how you led them on."

" It is very simple : they asked me how we were hving," Chikin began, speaking hurriedly, having the appearance of a man who has told the same story several times. " I said : ' We live well, dear man : we get our provisions in full, — in the morning and evening of chocolate a cup to each soldier is brought up; and for dinner we get soup, not of oats, but of noble barley groats, and instead of brandy we get a cup of Modeira, Modeira Divirioo which, without the bottle, is at forty- two!'"

" Great Modeira ! " shouted Velenchiik, louder than the rest, and bursting out laughing. "That's what I call Modeira ! "

" Well, and did you tell them about the Esiatics ? " Maksimov continued his inquiry, when the general laughter had subsided.

Chikin bent down toward the fire, got a coal out with a stick, put it in his pipe, and for a long while puffed in silence his tobacco roots, as though unconscious of the silent curiosity of his hearers. When he finally had puffed up sufficient smoke, he threw away the coal, poised his cap farther back on his head, and, shrugging his shoulder and lightly smiling, he continued. " ' What kind of a man is your small Circassian down there ? ' says one. * Or is it the Turk you are fighting in the Caucasus ? ' Says I : ' Dear man, there is not one kind of Circassians down there, but many different Circassians there are. There are some mountaineers who live in stone mountains, and who eat stone instead of bread. They are big,' says I, ' a big log in size ; they have one eye in the middle of the forehead,' and they wear red caps that glow like yours, dear man ! " he added, addressing a young recruit, who, in fact, wore a funny little cap with a red crown.

At this unexpected turn, the recruit suddenly sat down on the ground, slapped his knees, and burst out laughing and coughing so hard that he could hardly pronounce with a choking voice, "Those are fine moun- taineers ! "

" ' Then there are the Boobies,' " continued Chikin, with a jerk of his head drawing his cap back on his forehead, " ' these are twins, wee little twins, about this size. They always run in pairs, holding each other's hands,' says I, ' and they run so fast that you can't catch them on horse- back.' ' Are those Boobies,' says one, ' born with clasped hands, my dear fellow ? ' " Chikin spoke in a guttural bass, as though imitating a peasant. " ' Yes/ says I, ' dear man, he is such by nature. If you tear their hands apart, blood will ooze out, just as from a Chinaman ; if you take off their caps, blood will flow.' ' Now tell me, good fellow, how do they carry on war ? ' says he. ' Like this,' says I, * if they catch you, they sHt open your belly, and begin to wind your guts about your arms. They wind them, but you laugh and laugh, until you give up the ghost — ' "

" Well, did they believe you, Chikin ? " said Maksimov, with a slight smile, while the others were rolling in laughter.

" They are such strange people, Fedor ' Maksimych. They believe everything, upon my word, they do. But when I began to tell them about Mount Kazbek, telling them that the snow did not melt all summer there, they ridiculed me. ' Don't tell such fibs, good fellow,' they said. ' Who has ever heard such a thing : a big moun- tain, and the snow not melting on it ! Wliy, even with us the snow melts on the mounds long before it has melted in the hollows.' So, go and explain matters to them," concluded Chikin, winking.


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