“Shall we lie here?” asked Nazárka.
“Why not?” answered Lukáshka. “Sit down here and I’ll be back in a minute. I’ll only show Daddy where to go.”
“This is the best place; here we can see and not be seen,” said Ergushóv, “so it’s here we’ll lie. It’s a first-rate place!”
Nazárka and Ergushóv spread out their cloaks and settled down behind the log, while Lukáshka went on with Uncle Eróshka.
“It’s not far from here. Daddy,” said Lukáshka, stepping softly in front of the old man; “I’ll show you where they’ve been—I’m the only one that knows, Daddy.”
“Show me! You’re a fine fellow, a regular Snatcher!” replied the old man, also whispering.
Having gone a few steps Lukáshka stopped, stooped down over a puddle, and whistled. “That’s where they come to drink, d’you see?” He spoke in a scarcely audible voice, pointing to fresh hoof-prints.
“Christ bless you,” answered the old man. “The boar will be in the hollow beyond the ditch,” he added. “I’ll watch, and you can go.”
Lukáshka pulled his cloak up higher and walked back alone, throwing swift glances now to the left at the wall of reeds, now to the Térek rushing by below the bank. “I daresay he’s watching or creeping along somewhere,” thought he of a possible Chéchen hillsman. Suddenly a loud rustling and a splash in the water made him start and seize his musket. From under the bank a boar leapt up—his dark outline showing for a moment against the glassy surface of the water and then disappearing among the reeds. Lukáshka pulled out his gun and aimed, but before he could fire the boar had disappeared in the thicket. Lukáshka spat with vexation and went on. On approaching the ambuscade he halted again and whistled softly. His whistle was answered and he stepped up to his comrades.
Nazárka, all curled up, was already asleep. Ergushóv sat with his legs crossed and moved slightly to make room for Lukáshka.