He left the doll, went to the barn, and watched what would take place. Dina ran up to the doll, looked around, seized the doll, and fled. The next morning at dawn he sees Dina come out on the doorstep with the doll. And she has already dressed it up in red rags, and was rocking it like a little child, and singing a lullaby in her own language. An old woman came out, gave her a scolding, snatched the doll away, broke it in pieces, and sent Dina to her work. Zhilin made another doll, a still better one, and gave it to Dina. One time Dina brought a little jug, put it down, took a seat, and looked at him. Then she laughed, and pointed to the jug. "What is she so gay about?" thinks Zhilin. He took the jug, and began to drink. He supposed that it was water, but it was milk. He drank up the milk. "Good," says he. How delighted Dina was! "Good, Iván, good!" And she jumped up, clapped her hands, snatched the jug, and ran away. And from that time she began to bring him secretly fresh milk every day. Now, sometimes the Tatars would make cheesecakes out of goat's milk, and dry them on their roofs. Then she used to carry some of these cakes secretly to him. And another time, when her father had killed a sheep, she brought him a piece of mutton in her sleeve. She threw it down, and ran away. One time there was a tremendous shower, and for a whole hour the rain poured as from buckets; and all the brooks grew roily. Wherever there had been a ford, the depth of the water increased to seven feet, and bowlders were rolled along by it. Everywhere torrents were rushing, the mountains were full of the roaring. Now, when the shower was over, streams were pouring all through the village. Zhilin asked his master for a knife, whittled out a cylinder and some paddles, and made a water-wheel, and fastened manikins at the two ends. The little girls brought him some rags, and he dressed up the manikins, one like a man, the other like a woman. He fastened them on, and put the wheel in a brook. The wheel revolved, and the dolls danced. The whole village collected: the little boys and the little girls, the women, and even the Tatars, came and clucked with their tongues. "_Aï, Urus! aï, Iván!_" Abdul had a Russian watch, which had been broken. He took it, and showed it to Zhilin, and clucked with his tongue. Zhilin said,-- "Let me have it, I will fix it." He took it, opened the penknife, took it apart. Then he put it together again, and gave it back. The watch ran. The Tatar was delighted, brought him his old beshmet which was all in rags, and gave it to him. Nothing else to be done,--he took it, and used it as a covering at night. From that time, Zhilin's fame went abroad, that he was a "master." Even from distant villages, they came to him. One brought him a gun-lock or a pistol to repair, another a watch. His master furnished him with tools,--a pair of pincers and gimlets and a little file.