Jakov came in at this point, he raised his eyebrows and laughed:
"Now then sheep, what are you laughing at?" Pashka greeted him.
"Hullo! Where have you been?"
"Where you'll never be able to go."
"Just think," put in Ilya, "he's been reading books, too!"
"Really?" said Jakov, and came nearer in a more friendly way.
The three boys sat close together, in lively desultory conversation.
"I've seen such things, I couldn't even tell you!" cried Pashka, proud and excited. "Once I went two days without eating—not a bite! I've spent a night in the forest, alone."
"Was it bad?" asked Ilya.
"You go and try it, then you'll know. And once the dogs nearly killed me. That was in Kazan, where they put up a monument to a man, just because he made verses. A great, big man he was—his legs, I tell you, as thick as that, and his fist as big as your head, Jakov. I'll make you some poetry, boys—I know how, a bit."