ing about that; at all events, it was better than going to bed
hungry. So the Moujiks crossed themselves, and sat down to table. Then the one who was the sharpest of them, seeing that there was altogether but little for three, perceived how the business might be mended. When force can't win the day, a little cunning must be tried.
"Comrades," he cries, "you know Thomas; well, he 's likely to have his hair cropped[1] during this levy."
"What levy?"
"Why, there 's news of a war with China. Our father[2] has ordered the Chinese to pay a tribute of tea."
On that the two others took to weighing the matter, and deliberating upon it (unfortunately they could read, and had studied newspapers and reports), as to how the war would be carried on, and who should have the command. Our friends began a regular discussion, surmised, explained, wrangled. That was just what our trickster wanted. While they were giving their advice, and settling affairs, and arranging the forces, he didn't say a word, but ate up the whole of the soup and the porridge.
