"Aha, you river devils! Drown me if you can! But I've not given you a chance, the Lord be thanked! Hi, look out! The ice won't bear the three of us. Mind how you step, and choose places where the ice is bare of snow. There it's firmer. No, a better plan still would be to leave me where I am." Next, with a frowning scrutiny of my face, he inquired: "That notebook of our misdeeds--hasn't it had a wetting and got done for?" That very moment, as we stepped from the stranded floe (in grounding, it had crushed and shattered a small boat), such part of it as lay in the water gave a loud crack, and, swaying to and fro, and emitting a gurgling sound, floated clear of the rest. "Ah!" was the Morduine's quizzical comment. "YOU knew well enough what needed to be done." Wet, and chilled to the bone, though relieved in spirit, we stepped ashore to find a crowd of townspeople in conversation with Boev and the old soldier. And as we deposited our charge under the lea of a pile of logs he shouted cheerfully: "Mates, Makarei's notebook is done for, soaked through!" And since the notebook in question was weighing upon my breast like a brick, I pulled it out unseen, and hurled it far into the river with a plop like that of a frog. As for the Diatlovs, they lost no time in setting out in search of vodka in the tavern on the hill, and slapped one another on the back as they ran, and could be heard shouting, "Hurrah, hurrah!" Upon this, a tall old man with the beard of an apostle and the eyes of a brigand muttered: "Infidels, why disturb peaceful folk like this? You ought to be thrashed!" Whereupon Boev, who was changing his clothes, retorted: "What do you mean by 'disturb'?" "Besides," put in the old soldier, "even though we are Christians like yourself, we might as well have been drowned for all that you did to help us." "What could we have done?" Meanwhile Ossip had remained lying on the ground with one leg stretched out at full length, and tremulous hands fumbling at his greatcoat as under his breath he muttered: "Holy Mother, how wet I am! My clothes, though I have only worn them a year, are ruined for ever!" Moreover, he seemed now to have shrunken again in stature--to have become crumpled up like a man run over. Indeed, as he lay he seemed actually to be melting, so continuously was his bulk decreasing in size. But suddenly he raised himself to a sitting posture, groaned, and exclaimed in high-pitched, wrathful accents: "May the devil take you all! Be off with you to your washhouses and churches! Yes, be off, for it seems that, as God couldn't keep His holy festival without you, I've had to stand within an ace of death and to spoil my clothes-yes, all that you fellows should be got out of your fix!" Nevertheless, the men merely continued taking off their boots, and wringing out their clothes, and conversing with sundry gasps and grunts with the bystanders. So presently Ossip resumed: