Gavrilo let himself be carried away by his imagination. Tchelkache appeared crushed. His moustache hung down straight; his right side was all wet from the waves, his eyes were sunken in his head and without life. He was a pitiful and dull object. His likeness to a bird of prey had disappeared; self-abasement appeared in the very folds of his dirty blouse. "I'm tired, worn out!" "We are landing. . . Here we are." Tchelkache abruptly turned the boat and guided it toward something black that arose from the water. The sky was covered with clouds, and a fine, drizzling rain began to fall, pattering joyously on the crests of the waves. "Stop! . . . Softly!" ordered Tchelkache. The bow of the boat hit the hull of a vessel. "Are the devils sleeping?" growled Tchelkache, catching the ropes hanging over the side with his boat-hook. "The ladder isn't lowered. In this rain, besides. . . It couldn't have rained before! Eh! You vermin, there! Eh!" "Is that you Selkache?" came softly from above. "Lower the ladder, will you!" "Good-day, Selkache." "Lower the ladder, smoky devil!" roared Tchelkache. "Oh! Isn't he ill-natured to-day. . . Eh! Oh!" "Go up, Gavrilo!" commanded Tchelkache to his companion. In a moment they were on the deck, where three dark and bearded individuals were looking over the side at Tchelkache's boat and talking animatedly in a strange and harsh language. A fourth, clad in a long gown, advanced toward Tchelkache, shook his hand in silence and cast a suspicious glance at Gavrilo. "Get the money ready for to-morrow morning," briefly said Tchelkache. "I'm going to sleep, now. Come Gavrilo. Are you hungry?" "I'm sleepy," replied Gavrilo, In five minutes, he was snoring on the dirty deck; Tchelkache sitting beside him, was trying on an old boot that he found lying there. He softly whistled, animated both by sorrow and anger. Then he lay down beside Gavrilo, without removing the boot from his foot, and putting his hands under the back of his neck he carefully examined the deck, working his lips the while. The boat rocked joyously on the water; the sound of wood creaking dismally was heard, the rain fell softly on the deck, the waves beat against the sides. Everything resounded sadly like the lullaby of a mother who has lost all hope for the happiness of her son. Tchelkache, with parted lips, raised his head and gazed around him . . . and murmuring a few words, lay down again. * * * * * He was the first to awaken, starting up uneasily; then suddenly quieting down he looked at Gavrilo, who was still sleeping. The lad was smiling in his sleep, his round, sun-burned face irradiated with joy. Tchelkache sighed and climbed up a narrow rope ladder. The opening of the trap-door framed a piece of leaden sky. It was daylight, but the autumn weather was gray and gloomy.