Jig-Leg rested his head on his knees and was silent.
Over them hung the wall of the ravine furrowed by the deep cavities of the spring streams. From its summit a shaggy row of trees illuminated by the moon looked down into the abyss. The other side of the ravine, which had a gentler slope, was overgrown with shrubs; here and there the grey stems of the aspens stood out against its darker masses, and on their naked branches the nests of the rooks were visible.... And the ravine itself, lit up by the moon, was like a vision of slumber, like a weary dream, with nothing of the hues of life; and the quiet gurgling of the stream magnified its lifelessness still more and overshadowed its melancholy silence.
"I am dying," whispered Hopeful in a scarce audible voice, and immediately afterwards he repeated in a loud and clear voice, "I am dying, Stephen!"
Jig-Leg trembled all over, wriggled, snorted, and raising his head from his knees said, awkwardly, very gently, and as if fearing to disturb something:
"Oh, you've not come to that ... don't be afraid. Quite impossible! This is such a simple thing ... why it's nothing, my brother, God bless me!"
"Oh, Lord Jesus Christ!" sighed Hopeful heavily.
"It's nothing at all!" whispered Jig-Leg, bending over his comrade's face; "just you keep quiet for a bit ... maybe it will pass over!"
But Hopeful began to cough, and a new sound was audible in his breast, just as if a wet clout was being smacked against his ribs. Jig-Leg looked at him and twirled his moustaches in silence. Having coughed himself out, Hopeful began to pant loudly and uninterruptedly—just as if he were running away somewhere with all his might. For a long time he panted like this, then he said:
"Forgive me, Stephen ... if anything I ... that horse you know ... forgive me, little brother!"
"You forgive me!" interrupted Jig-Leg, and after a pause, he added: