A SPORTSMAN'S SKETCHES
'I say!' murmured Pavel, 'what did he cough for?'
'I don't know; perhaps it was the damp.'
All were silent for a little.
'Well,' inquired Fedya, 'are the potatoes done?'
Pavlusha tried them.
'No, they are raw. . . . My, what a splash!' he added, turning his face in the direction of the river; 'that must be a pike. . . . And there's a star falling.'
'I say, I can tell you something, brothers,' began Kostya, in a shrill little voice; 'listen what my dad told me the other day.'
'Well, we are listening,' said Fedya with a patronising air.
'You know Gavrila, I suppose, the carpenter up in the big village?'
'Yes, we know him.'
'And do you know why he is so sorrowful always, never speaks? do you know? I'll tell you why he's so sorrowful; he went one day, daddy said, he went, brothers, into the forest nutting. So he went nutting into the forest and lost his way; he went on—God only can tell where he got to. So he went on and on, brothers—but 'twas no good!—he could not find the way; and so night came on out of doors. So he sat down under a tree. "I'll wait till morning," thought he. He sat down and began to drop asleep. So as he was falling asleep, suddenly he heard some one call
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