'Why, the one who was drowned,' replied Kostya,' in this very river. Ah, what a boy he was! What a boy he was! His mother, Feklista, how she loved him, her Vasya! And she seemed to have a foreboding, Feklista did, that harm would come to him from the water. Sometimes, when Vasya went with us boys in the summer to bathe in the river, she used to be trembling all over. The other women did not mind; they passed by with the pails, and went on, but Feklista put her pail down on the ground, and set to calling him, 'Come back, come back, my little joy; come back, my darling!' And no one knows how he was drowned. He was playing on the bank, and his mother was there haymaking; suddenly she hears, as though some one was blowing bubbles through the water, and behold! there was only Vasya's little cap to be seen swimming on the water. You know since then Feklista has not been right in her mind: she goes and lies down at the place where he was drowned; she lies down, brothers, and sings a song--you remember Vasya was always singing a song like that--so she sings it too, and weeps and weeps, and bitterly rails against God.' 'Here is Pavlusha coming,' said Fedya. Pavel came up to the fire with a full pot in his hand. 'Boys,' he began, after a short silence, 'something bad happened.' 'Oh, what?' asked Kostya hurriedly. 'I heard Vasya's voice.' They all seemed to shudder. 'What do you mean? what do you mean?' stammered Kostya. 'I don't know. Only I went to stoop down to the water; suddenly I hear my name called in Vasya's voice, as though it came from below water: "Pavlusha, Pavlusha, come here." I came away. But I fetched the water, though.' 'Ah, God have mercy upon us!' said the boys, crossing themselves. 'It was the water-spirit calling you, Pavel,' said Fedya; 'we were just talking of Vasya.' 'Ah, it's a bad omen,' said Ilyusha, deliberately. 'Well, never mind, don't bother about it,' Pavel declared stoutly, and he sat down again; 'no one can escape his fate.' The boys were still. It was clear that Pavel's words had produced a strong impression on them. They began to lie down before the fire as though preparing to go to sleep. 'What is that?' asked Kostya, suddenly lifting his head. Pavel listened. 'It's the curlews flying and whistling.' 'Where are they flying to?' 'To a land where, they say, there is no winter.' 'But is there such a land?' 'Yes.' 'Is it far away?' 'Far, far away, beyond the warm seas.' Kostya sighed and shut his eyes.