Now, when the shower was over, streams were pouring all through the village. Zhilin asked his master for a knife, whittled out a cylinder and some paddles, and made a water-wheel, and fastened manikins at the two ends.
The little girls brought him some rags, and he dressed up the manikins, one like a man, the other like a woman. He fastened them on, and put the wheel in a brook. The wheel revolved, and the dolls danced.
The whole village collected: the little boys and the little girls, the women, and even the Tatars, came and clucked with their tongues. "Aï, Urus! aï, Iván!"
Abdul had a Russian watch, which had been broken. He took it, and showed it to Zhilin, and clucked with his tongue. Zhilin said,—
"Let me have it, I will fix it."
He took it, opened the penknife, took it apart. Then he put it together again, and gave it back. The watch ran.
The Tatar was delighted, brought him his old beshmet which was all in rags, and gave it to him. Nothing else to be done,—he took it, and used it as a covering at night.
From that time, Zhilin's fame went abroad, that he was a "master." Even from distant villages, they came to him. One brought him a gun-lock or a pistol to repair, another a watch.
His master furnished him with tools,—a pair of pincers and gimlets and a little file.
One time a Tatar fell ill; they came to Zhilin: "Come cure him!"