They all lay down. The door was thrown open by the wind and the snow drifted into the hut; nobody felt inclined to get up and shut the door: they were cold, and it was too much trouble.
“I am all right,” said Semyon as he began to doze. “I wouldn’t wish anyone a better life.”
“You are a tough one, we all know. Even the devils won’t take you!”
Sounds like a dog’s howling came from outside.
“What’s that? Who’s there?”
“It’s the Tatar crying.”
“I say.... He’s a queer one!”
“He’ll get u-used to it!” said Semyon, and at once fell asleep.
The others were soon asleep too. The door remained unclosed.