I’m the only one who knows.”
“Yes, show me!” the old man whispered back. “You’re a good lad, Snatcher!”
Lukashka stopped, crouched down by a pool of water, and whistled softly. “You see this? It stopped here to drink,” he said barely audibly, pointing at a fresh print.
“God bless you!” the old man said. “The boar will be holed up beyond that ditch! I’ll stay here, you go back now!”
Lukashka wrapped himself in his cloak and headed back toward the river, eyeing the wall of reeds to his left and the Terek, seething in its banks, to his right. “Those Chechens must be creeping around here somewhere!” he thought. Suddenly a loud rustling noise and a splash made him shudder and reach for his rifle. A boar leapt panting over the embankment, and its black shape, outlined for an instant against the gleaming surface of the water, disappeared into the reeds. Lukashka quickly took aim, but the boar was gone before he could shoot. He spat in fury and walked on. When he came to the log where Nazarka and Ergushov were lying in wait, he stopped and whistled softly. His whistle was returned, and he joined his comrades.
Nazarka lay asleep, curled up in his cloak. Ergushov was sitting cross-legged and moved a little to the side to make room for Lukashka.
“This is fun! And it’s a great hideout!” Ergushov whispered. “Did you show Uncle Eroshka the place?”
“Yes,” Lukashka replied, spreading his cloak on the ground. “You should have seen the boar I just shied up from the riverbank! It must have been the one we were looking for. You heard all the crackling, no?”
“Yes, I thought right away you must have flushed out something,” Ergushov said, pulling his cloak tighter around his shoulders. “I’ll get some sleep now. Wake me when the first cock crows,” he added. “We have to do this right: I’ll catch a few winks now while you’re on watch, and then you can get some sleep while I watch.”
“As it is, I don’t feel like sleeping,” Lukashka replied.
The night was dark and warm. Stars shone in one part of the sky, the larger part by the mountain was overcast. A single, large black cloud that blended with the peaks in the windless night slowly spread further and further, standing out starkly from the deep, starry sky. All Lukashka could see was the Terek and the distance beyond. Behindhim and to his sides was a wall of reeds. At times they began to sway and rustle against one another for no apparent reason. Seen from below, their swaying tops looked like tender, leafy branches against the light part of the sky. At his feet lay the riverbank, beyond which the torrent was seething. Further out, the glossy mass of brown water rippled monotonously past banks and shoals, and further still the water, the opposite bank, and the clouds faded into the impenetrable darkness. Black shadows, which Lukashka’s sharp eye recognized as driftwood that the current was carrying downstream, were drifting along the surface of the river. Rare flashes of summer lightning sparked in the water as in a black mirror, revealing the outline of the sloping bank on the other side. The even sounds of the night, the rustling of the reeds, the snoring of the Cossacks, the humming of the mosquitoes, and the flowing water were interrupted from time to time by a distant gunshot, the gurgling of a chunk of the riverbank falling into the water, the splash of a big fish, and the crackling of an animal in the wild undergrowth. An owl flew along the river, its wings flapping together with every second beat, and right above the Cossacks’ heads it turned and flew toward the forest, its wings now touching at every beat. It hovered over a gnarled plane tree and then settled in its branches. At every unexpected sound Lukashka listened intently, narrowing his eyes, and slowly reached for his rifle.
The greater part of the night had passed. The black cloud had stretched westward, revealing the clear, starry sky from within
“Yes, show me!” the old man whispered back. “You’re a good lad, Snatcher!”
Lukashka stopped, crouched down by a pool of water, and whistled softly. “You see this? It stopped here to drink,” he said barely audibly, pointing at a fresh print.
“God bless you!” the old man said. “The boar will be holed up beyond that ditch! I’ll stay here, you go back now!”
Lukashka wrapped himself in his cloak and headed back toward the river, eyeing the wall of reeds to his left and the Terek, seething in its banks, to his right. “Those Chechens must be creeping around here somewhere!” he thought. Suddenly a loud rustling noise and a splash made him shudder and reach for his rifle. A boar leapt panting over the embankment, and its black shape, outlined for an instant against the gleaming surface of the water, disappeared into the reeds. Lukashka quickly took aim, but the boar was gone before he could shoot. He spat in fury and walked on. When he came to the log where Nazarka and Ergushov were lying in wait, he stopped and whistled softly. His whistle was returned, and he joined his comrades.
Nazarka lay asleep, curled up in his cloak. Ergushov was sitting cross-legged and moved a little to the side to make room for Lukashka.
“This is fun! And it’s a great hideout!” Ergushov whispered. “Did you show Uncle Eroshka the place?”
“Yes,” Lukashka replied, spreading his cloak on the ground. “You should have seen the boar I just shied up from the riverbank! It must have been the one we were looking for. You heard all the crackling, no?”
“Yes, I thought right away you must have flushed out something,” Ergushov said, pulling his cloak tighter around his shoulders. “I’ll get some sleep now. Wake me when the first cock crows,” he added. “We have to do this right: I’ll catch a few winks now while you’re on watch, and then you can get some sleep while I watch.”
“As it is, I don’t feel like sleeping,” Lukashka replied.
The night was dark and warm. Stars shone in one part of the sky, the larger part by the mountain was overcast. A single, large black cloud that blended with the peaks in the windless night slowly spread further and further, standing out starkly from the deep, starry sky. All Lukashka could see was the Terek and the distance beyond. Behindhim and to his sides was a wall of reeds. At times they began to sway and rustle against one another for no apparent reason. Seen from below, their swaying tops looked like tender, leafy branches against the light part of the sky. At his feet lay the riverbank, beyond which the torrent was seething. Further out, the glossy mass of brown water rippled monotonously past banks and shoals, and further still the water, the opposite bank, and the clouds faded into the impenetrable darkness. Black shadows, which Lukashka’s sharp eye recognized as driftwood that the current was carrying downstream, were drifting along the surface of the river. Rare flashes of summer lightning sparked in the water as in a black mirror, revealing the outline of the sloping bank on the other side. The even sounds of the night, the rustling of the reeds, the snoring of the Cossacks, the humming of the mosquitoes, and the flowing water were interrupted from time to time by a distant gunshot, the gurgling of a chunk of the riverbank falling into the water, the splash of a big fish, and the crackling of an animal in the wild undergrowth. An owl flew along the river, its wings flapping together with every second beat, and right above the Cossacks’ heads it turned and flew toward the forest, its wings now touching at every beat. It hovered over a gnarled plane tree and then settled in its branches. At every unexpected sound Lukashka listened intently, narrowing his eyes, and slowly reached for his rifle.
The greater part of the night had passed. The black cloud had stretched westward, revealing the clear, starry sky from within
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