This familiarity did not please Efimushka. At any rate he, after all, was the person in authority, and this blockhead ought not to have forgotten that Efimushka carried his copper plaque of office on his bosom. Efimushka rose to his feet, took up his stick, drew forth his plaque, let it hang openly on the middle of his breast, and said, severely:
"Stand up! Let's be off!"
"I'm not going," said the prisoner.
Efimushka was flabbergasted. Screwing up his eyes he was silent for a moment, not understanding why this prisoner should suddenly have taken to jesting.
"Come, don't make a pother, let's be going!" he said somewhat more softly.
"I am not going," repeated the prisoner emphatically.
"Why not?" shrieked Efimushka, full of rage and amazement.
"Because I want to pass the night here with you. Come! let us light a fire!"
"I let you pass the night here? I light a fire here by your side, eh? A pretty thing, indeed!" growled Efimushka Yet at the bottom of his soul he was amazed. The man had said: I won't go! but had shown no signs of opposition, no disposition to quarrel, but simply lay down on the ground and that was all. What was to be the end of it?
"Don't make a row, Efim!" advised the prisoner coolly.