But after another month had passed, their intimacy grew. Now, when Semen and Vasili met on the road-bed, they sat down on the edge, smoked their pipes, and told each other of their past life and experiences. Vasili spoke but little, but Semen told of his campaign life and of his native village. “I have seen plenty of sorrow in my time, and God knows I am not so very old either. God has not given us much luck. It just depends: the kind of a lot the dear Lord portions out to one--such he must have. This is the way I make it out, Vasili Stepanich, little brother.” And Vasili struck the bowl of his pipe on the rail to empty it, and said: “It isn’t luck nor fate which is eating your life and mine away, but people. There is not a beast more cruel and rapacious than man. A wolf does not devour a wolf--but man eats man alive.” “Well, brother, wolf does eat wolf--that is where you are wrong.” “It came to my tongue, so I said it; anyhow there is not a more cruel beast. If it were not for man’s viciousness and greed--’twould be possible to live. Every one is on the lookout to grasp at your vitals, tear off a piece, and gobble it up.” “I don’t know, brother,” said Semen after thinking a bit. “Maybe it is so--but if it is really so, then the great God ordained it in this way.” “And if it is so,” spoke Vasili, “then there is no use of my speaking to you. A man who attributes to God every kind of iniquity, and himself sits and patiently bears it, can not be a man, brother mine--but an animal. Here you have my whole say!” And he turned and went off without even saying good-by. Semen rose also and called after him; “Neighbor, and what are you abusing me for?” But the neighbor did not even turn around, and went his way. Semen looked after him till he was lost from sight at the turn of the road, then he returned home and said to his wife: “Well, Arina, what a venomous man that neighbor of ours is!” Nevertheless they were not angry with each other; and when they met again they spoke as if nothing had happened and on the very same topic. “Ei, brother, if not for the people--we would not sit here in these watch-houses,” spoke Vasili. “Well, what if we do live in a watch-house? It is not so bad to live in one, after all.” “Not so bad to live, not so bad--Ech, you! You lived long, but gained little; looked at much, but saw little. A poor man, no matter where he lives, in a railway watch-house or in any other place, what sort of a life is his? Those fleecers are eating your life away, squeeze all your juice out, and when you have grown old they throw you out like some swill, for the pigs to feed on. How much wages do you get?” “Well, not much, Vasili Stepanich, twelve rubles” (about seven dollars and a half).