"It's cold," said one of the ferrymen hoarsely, as he stretched himself on the straw with which the damp, clay floor was covered.
"Yes. It's not warm," another agreed.... "It's a hard life."
All of them lay down. The wind blew the door open. The snow drifted into the hut. Nobody could bring himself to get up and shut the door; it was cold, but they put up with it.
"And I am happy," muttered Simeon as he fell asleep. "God give such a life to everybody."
"You certainly are the devil's own. Even the devil don't need to take you."
Sounds like the barking of a dog came from outside.
"Who is that? Who is there?"
"It's the Tartar crying."
"Oh! he's a queer fish."
"He'll get used to it!" said Simeon, and at once he fell asleep. Soon the others slept too and the door was left open.