It had grown quite dark before, talking in this way, they approached the village. They were still surrounded by the deep gloom of the forest. The wind howled through the tree-tops. The jackals suddenly seemed to be crying close beside them, howling, chuckling, and sobbing; but ahead of them in the village the sounds of women’s voices and the barking of dogs could already be heard; the outlines of the huts were clearly to be seen; lights gleamed and the air was filled with the peculiar smell of _kisyak_ smoke. Olénin felt keenly, that night especially, that here in this village was his home, his family, all his happiness, and that he never had and never would live so happily anywhere as he did in this Cossack village. He was so fond of everybody and especially of Lukáshka that night. On reaching home, to Lukáshka’s great surprise, Olénin with his own hands led out of the shed a horse he had bought in Gróznoe—it was not the one he usually rode but another—not a bad horse though no longer young, and gave it to Lukáshka. “Why should you give me a present?” said Lukáshka, “I have not yet done anything for you.” “Really it is nothing,” answered Olénin. “Take it, and you will give me a present, and we’ll go on an expedition against the enemy together.” Lukáshka became confused. “But what d’you mean by it? As if a horse were of little value,” he said without looking at the horse. “Take it, take it! If you don’t you will offend me. Vanyúsha! Take the grey horse to his house.” Lukáshka took hold of the halter. “Well then, thank you! This is something unexpected, undreamt of.” Olénin was as happy as a boy of twelve. “Tie it up here. It’s a good horse. I bought it in Gróznoe; it gallops splendidly! Vanyúsha, bring us some _chikhir_. Come into the hut.” The wine was brought. Lukáshka sat down and took the wine-bowl. “God willing I’ll find a way to repay you,” he said, finishing his wine. “How are you called?” “Dmítri Andréich.” “Well, ’Mitry Andréich, God bless you. We will be _kunaks_. Now you must come to see us. Though we are not rich people still we can treat a _kunak_, and I will tell mother in case you need anything—clotted cream or grapes—and if you come to the cordon I’m your servant to go hunting or to go across the river, anywhere you like! There now, only the other day, what a boar I killed, and I divided it among the Cossacks, but if I had only known, I’d have given it to you.” “That’s all right, thank you! But don’t harness the horse, it has never been in harness.” “Why harness the horse? And there is something else I’ll tell you if you like,” said Lukáshka, bending his head. “I have a _kunak_, Giréy Khan. He asked me to lie in ambush by the road where they come down from the mountains. Shall we go together? I’ll not betray you. I’ll be your _murid_.” “Yes, we’ll go; we’ll go some day.”