"Yes."
Hopeful moved a little towards the fire, poked it with his stick, and looking askance at Jig-Leg, who was once more immersed in his work, said softly and beseechingly:
"Hadn't we better let her[4] go?"
"It's your low nature that makes you talk like that!" exclaimed Jig-Leg angrily.
[4] The horse.
"Nay, but for God's sake listen!" persisted Hopeful softly, and with a tone of conviction, "Just think, there's danger in it! Here we shall have to drag her along for four versts.... And suppose the gipsies won't take her!—what then?"
"That's my affair."
"As you like! Only it would be better to let her go. Let her go and slope. Look what a knacker she is!"
Jig-Leg was silent, but his fingers moved more quickly than ever.
"How much would they give for her, I should like to know, in case they gave anything at all?" persisted Hopeful, quietly but stubbornly. "And now it's the best time. It will be dark immediately. If we go along the gully we shall come out at Dubenka. Let's keep our eyes open, and we may be able to prig something or other."