“Go, and God be with you!”
“Well, shall we march on, father?” said the deputy to the prisoner.
“You might furnish a conveyance,” grumbled the prisoner at the deputy’s proposition.
The Starosta smiled.
“A con—vey—ance? The idea! There are lots of you fellows tramping across fields and villages. Where are all the horses to come from? You’ve got to make it on foot; that’s all there’s to it!”
“That’s nothing, father; let us go,” said the deputy cheerfully. “Do you think it so far? Can’t be more than twenty versts! You’ll be there before you know it. We shall make a nice trip of it. And afterwards you shall have a rest.”
“In a cool place,” explained the Starosta.
“That’s nothing,” the deputy hastened to say. “A man, when he is very tired, will find rest even in jail. And especially after a hot day you will find it cool and comfortable there.”
The prisoner eyed his escort sharply; the latter smiled good-naturedly and frankly.
“Well, come along, honest father! Good-bye, Vasil Gavrilich! Let’s go!”