They climbed the mountain. And there they found the forest. They entered it; their clothes were all torn to pieces on the thorns. They found a little path through the woods. They walked along it. "Halt!" There was the sound of hoofs on the path. They stopped to listen. It sounded like the tramping of a horse: then it also stopped. They set out once more; again the tramping hoofs. When they stopped, it stopped. Zhilin crept ahead, and investigated a light spot on the path. Something is standing there. It may be a horse, or it may not, but on it there is something strange, not at all like a man. It snorted--plainly! "What a strange thing!" Zhilin gave a slight whistle. There was a dash of feet from the path into the forest, a crackling in the underbrush, and something rushed along like a hurricane, with a crashing of dry boughs. Kostuilin almost fell to the ground in fright. But Zhilin laughed, and said,-- "That was a stag. Do you hear how it crashes through the woods with its horns? We frightened him, and he frightened us." They went on their way. Already the Great Bear was beginning to set; the dawn was not distant. And they were in doubt whether they should come out right or not. Zhilin was inclined to think that they were on the right track, and that it would be about ten versts farther before they reached the Russian fortress, but there is no certain guide; you could not tell in the night. They came to a little clearing. Kostuilin sat down and said,-- "Do as you please, but I will not go any farther; my legs won't carry me." Zhilin tried to persuade him. "No," says he, "I won't go, I can't go." Zhilin grew angry; he threatens him, he scolds him. "Then I will go on without you. Good-by!" Kostuilin jumped up and followed. They went four versts farther. The fog began to grow thicker in the forest. Nothing could be seen before them; the stars were barely visible. Suddenly they hear the tramping of a horse just in front of them; they can hear his shoes striking on the stones. Zhilin threw himself down on his belly, and tried to listen by laying his ear to the ground. "Yes, it is,--it is some one on horseback coming in our direction." They slipped off to one side of the road, crouched down in the bushes, and waited. Zhilin crept close to the path, and looked. He sees a mounted Tatar riding along, driving a cow. The man is muttering to himself. When the Tatar had ridden by, Zhilin returned to Kostuilin. "Well, God has saved us. Up with you! Come along!" Kostuilin tried to rise, and fell back. "I can't; by God, I can't. My strength is all gone." The man was as though he were drunk. He was all of a sweat; and as they were surrounded by the cold fog, and his feet were torn, he was quite used up. Zhilin tried to lift him by main force. Then Kostuilin cried, "_Aï!_ it hurt." Zhilin was frightened to death.