When we were ready to start, I in front, he a few steps behind, his pipe in his mouth, a smile on his lips, I could not help asking: "Uncle, what are you smiling at?"
"At you!" he answered unexpectedly. "I guess you wouldn't go home just now even for ten rubles."[11]
"Why—" I began and stopped, wondering again how he could read my thoughts. For it had just occurred to me that if, for any reason, I had to return, mother wouldn't let me out again, and perhaps even father— At this point, I hit the mule on whose back I was mounted, and we started off.
FOOTNOTE:
[11] Russian money. Ten rubles would equal about five dollars of our money.—The Editor.
CHAPTER IX
THE HUNT
When we reached the meeting-place, more than a dozen men on horseback were already there. Close to them stood a big shallow sleigh, the runners of which were a pair of birch poles. In it were ropes, a hatchet, food and forage. The driver of this was Daria, an old woman, whom I have already mentioned once or twice. I knew her story. The death of her husband and two children of typhoid fever had caused her to be despondent for several years. Then some one left a foundling at her door. She adopted the child, trying in every way to make a worthy man of him. To do this, she accepted all kinds of odd jobs, even such as were generally given to men. She built fences, prepared the dead for burial, acted as midwife and nurse, delivered messages that nobody else cared to undertake, sometimes at night or during severe storms. She seemed to be afraid of nothing in the world and of nobody.
When she first began to work in this way, she was pitied and helped; a little later, she was laughed at, and unpleasant names were applied to her; but finally, all came to have a deep respect for her and to rely on her help when trouble came.