Bog-Myrtle and Peat: Tales Chiefly of Galloway Gathered from the Years 1889 to 1895Crockett, S. R. (Samuel Rutherford)
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Bog-Myrtle and Peat: Tales Chiefly of Galloway Gathered from the Years 1889 to 1895
Crockett, S. R. (Samuel Rutherford)
Dumfries and Galloway (Scotland) -- Fiction; Short stories
"At last, in the dusk of a night in early summer, when the mosquitos
were biting with all their first fury and it was still broad day at ten
o'clock, I started, walking easily and conspicuously to the south,
sitting down occasionally to smoke as though enjoying the night air
before turning in, lest any of my hosts should chance to be awake. Once
out of sight of the Yoort, I went quickly to my _cache_ of provisions,
and, shouldering the whole, I turned my face towards the river and the
Northern Ocean.
"I had not gone far when I struck the track which led along the
riverside in the direction of Bulun. There, to my intense horror, I saw
a man sitting still in a Siberian cart within a few hundred yards,
apparently waiting for me to descend. I gave myself up for lost, but,
nevertheless, made my way down to him. He was a young man with an
uncertain face and weak, shifty eyes.
"'Halloo!' I cried, in order to have the first word, 'what will you take
to drive me to Maidy, where I wish to fish?'
"'I cannot drive you to Maidy,' he returned, 'for I am carrying
provisions to my father, who has the shop in Bulun; but for two roubles
I will give you a lift to Wiledóte, where you can cross the river to
Maidy in a boat.'
"It was none so evil a chance after all which took me in his way. He was
a useless fellow enough, and intolerably conceited. He was for ever
asking if I could do this and that, and jeering at me for my incapacity
when I disclaimed my ability.
"'You cannot kill a wild goose at thirty paces when it is coming towards
you--_plaff_--so fast! You could not shoot as I. Last week I killed
thirty ducks with one discharge of my gun.'
"At this point he drove into a ditch, and we were both spilled out on
the _tundra_, an unpleasant thing in summer when the peaty ground is one
vast sponge. At Maidy we met this young man's father. Here I found that
it was a good thing for me that I had been isolated at the Yoort, for
had I been in the Free Command I should certainly have been spotted. The
wily old merchant knew every prisoner in the Command; but as I had
always obtained all my supplies indirectly through Big Peter, my name
and appearance were alike unknown to him. He approached me, however,
with caution and circumspection, and asked for a drink of _vodka_ for
the ride which his son had given me.
"'Why should I give thee a drink of _vodka_?' I asked, lest I should
seem suspiciously ready to be friendly.
"'Because my son drove you thirteen versts and more.'
"'But I paid your son for all he has done--two roubles, according to
bargain. Why should I buy thee _vodka_? Thou art better without _vodka_.
_Vodka_ will make thee drunk, and thou shalt be brought before the
_ispravnik_.'
"The dirty old rascal drew himself up.
"'I, even I, am _ispravnik_, and the horses were mine and the
_tarantass_ also.'
"'But thy son drove badly and upset us in the ditch.'
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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