In the evening Jilin sat in the pit wondering what would happen. He kept looking up; the stars were visible, but the moon had not yet risen. The Mullah’s call was heard, and all grew quiet. Jilin began to doze, thinking “The child is afraid.” Suddenly some clay dropped on to his head. He looked up, and saw a long pole poking into the opposite wall of the pit; it began to slide down. Jilin took hold of it and lowered it with a feeling of gladness at his heart. It was a stout, strong pole; he had noticed it many times on the roof of the master’s hut. He looked up. The stars were shining high in the sky and above the pit Dina’s eyes gleamed in the darkness like a cat’s. She leant her head over the pit and whispered, “Ivan, Ivan!” making signs to him to speak low. “What is it?” Jilin asked. “They’ve all gone but two.” “Come, Kostilin,” Jilin said; “let us try our luck for the last time; I’ll help you up.” But Kostilin would not listen to him. “No,” he said; “it seems that I can’t get away from here. How can I come when I’ve hardly strength enough to move?” “Well, good-bye, then. Don’t think ill of me.” He kissed Kostilin, and seizing the pole, he asked Dina to hold it at the top and swarmed up. Twice he fell back again; the shackles hindered him. But Jilin persevered and got to the top somehow. Dina clutched hold of his shirt and pulled at him with all her might, unable to control her laughter. When he clambered out Jilin handed her the pole, saying, “Put it back in its place, Dina, for if they notice its absence they’ll beat you.” Dina dragged the pole away, and Jilin went down the hill. When he got to the bottom he sat down under its shelter, took a sharp stone and tried to wrench the lock off the shackles. But the lock was a strong one and would not give way, and it was difficult to get at it. Suddenly he heard some one coming downhill, skipping lightly. “It must be Dina again,” he thought. She came up, took the stone and said, “Let me try.” She knelt down and tried to wrench the lock off, but her little hands were as slender as little twigs and there was no strength in them. She threw the stone down and burst into tears. Jilin made another attempt, while Dina squatted down beside him and put her hand on his shoulder. Jilin looked round; to the left the sky was all red; the moon was beginning to rise. “I must cross the valley and be under shelter of the wood before the moon rises,” he thought. He got up and threw away the stone. “I must go as I am in the shackles. Good-bye, Dina, dear; I shall always remember you.” Dina seized hold of him and groped about his coat with her hand to find a place to thrust some cakes into. Jilin took the cakes. “Thank you, little one,” he said. “There won’t be any one to make you dolls when I am gone.” He stroked her head.