“Stop, I say!” exclaimed Ergushóv, seizing his musket and raising himself behind the log near which he was lying.
“Shut up, you devil!” whispered Lukáshka, grinding his teeth. “Abreks!”
“Whom have you shot?” asked Nazárka. “Who was it, Lukáshka?”
Lukáshka did not answer. He was reloading his gun and watching the floating wood. A little way off it stopped on a sand-bank, and from behind it something large that rocked in the water came into view.
“What did you shoot? Why don’t you speak?” insisted the Cossacks.
“Abreks, I tell you!” said Lukáshka.
“Don’t humbug! Did the gun go off? ...”
“I’ve killed an abrek, that’s what I fired at,” muttered Lukáshka in a voice choked by emotion, as he jumped to his feet. “A man was swimming...” he said, pointing to the sandbank. “I killed him. Just look there.”
“Have done with your humbugging!” said Ergushóv again, rubbing his eyes.
“Have done with what? Look there,” said Lukáshka, seizing him by the shoulders and pulling him with such force that Ergushóv groaned.