“Give me my lid: if you don’t, I’ll tear you to bits!”
“And my hatchet, how about that?” answers the moujik. “Why, it’s I who’ll be chopping you into small pieces!”
“Do give it back to me, good man!” begs the corpse.
“I’ll give it when you tell me where you’ve been and what you’ve done.”
“Well, I’ve been in the village, and there I’ve killed a couple of youngsters.”
“Well then, now tell me how they can be brought back to life.”
The corpse reluctantly made answer:
“Cut off the left skirt of my shroud, and take it with you. When you come into the house where the youngsters were killed, pour some live coals into a pot and put the piece of the shroud in with them, and then lock the door. The lads will be revived by the smoke immediately.”
The moujik cut off the left skirt of the shroud, and gave up the coffin-lid. The corpse went to its grave—the grave opened. But just as the dead man was descending into it, all of a sudden the cocks began to crow, and he hadn’t time to get properly covered over. One end of the coffin-lid remained sticking out of the ground.
The moujik saw all this and made a note of it. The day began to dawn; he harnessed his horse and drove into the village. In one of the houses he heard cries and wailing. In he went—there lay two dead lads.