He burst into the bar room and cried breathlessly: "Uncle—he's dead!"
Terenti gave an "Ah!" of astonishment, then moved nervously up and down, pulling at his shirt and looking at Petrusha behind the bar.
"Uncle, go to him!—go quick!"
"There, what are you waiting for," said Petrusha, decidedly. "Go along. God have mercy on his soul! He was a sturdy old man. I'll go with you to see him. Ilya, you stay here. If anything is wanted, fetch me, d'you hear? Jakov, look after the bar, I shan't be a minute."
Petrusha left the bar room without undue haste, putting his feet down noisily. The two boys heard him speak again to the hunchback behind the door:
"Get on—get on—you lout!"
Ilya was seized with a great fear, from all he had seen and heard, but it did not prevent him from seeing quite exactly all that went on around him.
"Did you see how he died?" asked Jakov, who had taken his place behind the bar.
Ilya looked at him and answered with another question: "Why have they gone there?"
"To look at him—you called them."