They grew silent and the interpreter said, “The master thinks a ransom of five hundred roubles is not enough. He himself paid two hundred roubles for you. Kasi-Mohammed was in his debt, and he took you in payment. He wants three thousand roubles and refuses to let you go for less. If you won’t pay the money you’ll be flung into a pit and flogged.”
“The more you show you’re afraid of them, the worse it is,” Jilin thought. He leapt to his feet and said, “Tell the dog that if he begins to threaten me, he shan’t have a farthing! I won’t write home at all! I was never afraid of you, and I’m not going to be now, you dogs!”
The interpreter conveyed his words, and again the Tartars began to speak all at once.
They jabbered for a long time, then the dark one sprang up and came to Jilin.
“Russ,” he said, “djigit, djigit Russ!” (Djigit in their tongue means brave.) He laughed and said a few words to the interpreter, who turned to Jilin.
“Will you give a thousand roubles?”
Jilin stuck to his own.
“I won’t give more than five hundred, not if you kill me.”
The Tartars conferred together, and sent the servant off somewhere, and when he was gone they stared now at Jilin, now at the door.
The servant returned, followed by a stout, bare-footed man, in torn clothes. On his feet were also shackles. Jilin gave an exclamation of surprise. It was Kostilin. He, too, had been captured then. The Tartars sat them down side by side, and they began to tell each other of their experiences, the Tartars looking on in silence. Jilin told Kostilin what had happened to him, and Kostilin told Jilin that his horse had got tired, his rifle missed fire, and that this same Abdul had caught him up and captured him.