“Well, I sat here and suddenly saw something dark on the other side. I spied him when he was still over there. It was as if a man had come there and fallen in. Strange! And a piece of driftwood, a good-sized piece, comes floating, not with the stream but across it; and what do I see but a head appearing from under it! Strange! I stretched out of the reeds but could see nothing; then I rose and he must have heard, the beast, and crept out into the shallow and looked about. ‘No, you don’t!’ I said, as soon as he landed and looked round, ‘you won’t get away!’ Oh, there was something choking me! I got my gun ready but did not stir, and looked out. He waited a little and then swam out again; and when he came into the moonlight I could see his whole back. ‘In the name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Ghost’... and through the smoke I see him struggling. He moaned, or so it seemed to me. ‘Ah,’ I thought, ‘the Lord be thanked, I’ve killed him!’ And when he drifted onto the sand-bank I could see him distinctly: he tried to get up but couldn’t. He struggled a bit and then lay down. Everything could be seen. Look, he does not move—he must be dead! The Cossacks have gone back to the cordon in case there should be any more of them.” “And so you got him!” said the old man. “He is far away now, my lad! ...” And again he shook his head sadly. Just then the sound reached them of breaking bushes and the loud voices of Cossacks approaching along the bank on horseback and on foot. “Are you bringing the skiff?” shouted Lukáshka. “You’re a trump, Luke! Lug it to the bank!” shouted one of the Cossacks. Without waiting for the skiff Lukáshka began to undress, keeping an eye all the while on his prey. “Wait a bit, Nazárka is bringing the skiff,” shouted the corporal. “You fool! Maybe he is alive and only pretending! Take your dagger with you!” shouted another Cossack. “Get along,” cried Luke, pulling off his trousers. He quickly undressed and, crossing himself, jumped, plunging with a splash into the river. Then with long strokes of his white arms, lifting his back high out of the water and breathing deeply, he swam across the current of the Térek towards the shallows. A crowd of Cossacks stood on the bank talking loudly. Three horsemen rode off to patrol. The skiff appeared round a bend. Lukáshka stood up on the sandbank, leaned over the body, and gave it a couple of shakes. “Quite dead!” he shouted in a shrill voice. The Chéchen had been shot in the head. He had on a pair of blue trousers, a shirt, and a Circassian coat, and a gun and dagger were tied to his back. Above all these a large branch was tied, and it was this which at first had misled Lukáshka. “What a carp you’ve landed!” cried one of the Cossacks who had assembled in a circle, as the body, lifted out of the skiff, was laid on the bank, pressing down the grass. “How yellow he is!” said another.