The milk market did a lively business, while the engine loaded wood, in the leisurely manner with which all such work is done. The train crew abandoned the train, and made an onslaught on the cabbage soup and tea—and talk! such a flood of talk they produced with the Russian staff of the station!
With my baggage stowed in a crowded fourth-class car, holding some forty persons each determined to keep inviolate the few inches of seating space already pre-empted, I got into the open air again, and attracted by the clamor of the railroad men in the station, I got my interpreter to translate some of the conversation, which, by the vigor shown by the talkers, must indicate something afoot which would stand out in Russian history. Perhaps a new revolution, or the Czar had come back to the throne.
This was the burden of their excited discussion:
The engine is bad.
When will these accursed Japanese go away?
The weather is good.
I am very thirsty.
I have a lazy Chinese for a helper.
Ivan, who worked at Nikolsk, is sick.
Do you remember when Peter fell in the river?