"Don't shout so! You know that the Tartar is not far off,--he will hear you." But he thought: "He is, indeed, weak, so what shall I do with him? It will not do to abandon my companion." "Well," he said, "get up, get on my back, and I will carry you, if you cannot walk." He took Kostylín on his back, put his hands on Kostylín's legs, walked out on the road, and walked on. "Only be sure," he said, "and do not choke me with your hands, for Christ's sake. Hold on to my shoulders!" It was hard for Zhilín: his feet, too, were blood-stained, and he was worn out. He kept bending down, straightening up Kostylín, and throwing him up, so that he might sit higher, and dragged him along the road. Evidently the Tartar had heard Kostylín's shout. Zhilín heard some one riding from behind and calling in his language. Zhilín made for the brush. The Tartar pulled out his gun and fired; he screeched in his fashion, and rode back along the road. "Well," said Zhilín, "we are lost, my friend! That dog will collect the Tartars and they will start after us. If we cannot make another three versts, we are lost." But he thought about Kostylín: "The devil has tempted me to take this log along. If I had been alone, I should have escaped long ago." Kostylín said: "Go yourself! Why should you perish for my sake?" "No, I will not go,--it will not do to leave a comrade." He took him once more on his shoulders, and held on to him. Thus they walked another verst. The woods extended everywhere, and no end was to be seen. The mist was beginning to lift, and rose in the air like little clouds, and the stars could not be seen. Zhilín was worn out. They came to a little spring by the road; it was lined with stones. Zhilín stopped and put down Kostylín. "Let me rest," he said, "and get a drink! We will eat our cakes. It cannot be far now." He had just got down to drink, when he heard the tramping of horses behind them. Again they rushed to the right, into the bushes, down an incline, and lay down. They could hear Tartar voices. The Tartars stopped at the very spot where they had left the road. They talked awhile, then they made a sound, as though sicking dogs. Something crashed through the bushes, and a strange dog made straight for them. It stopped and began to bark. Then the Tartars came down,--they, too, were strangers. They took them, bound them, put them on their horses, and carried them off. They travelled about three versts, when they were met by Abdul, the prisoners' master, and two more Tartars. They talked with each other, and the prisoners were put on the other horses and taken back to the village. Abdul no longer laughed, and did not speak one word with them. They were brought to the village at daybreak, and were placed in the street. The children ran up and beat them with stones and sticks, and screamed.