Short Fiction by Vladimir Korolenko (ready player one ebook TXT) 📕

“This reminds me of our villages,” he said, with a sigh. “It is a long time since I have seen one. The Yakúts in their districts live apart, like wild beasts.⁠ ⁠… I wish I could move to this part of the country. I might perhaps endure life here.”

“Can’t you endure it in your own district? You have a farm there, I think. You said, just now, that you were satisfied with your life.”

For some time he made no reply.

“I cannot bear it! I wish I might never see this country again!”

He went up to his horse, felt of his neck, and patted him. The intelligent animal turned his head and neighed.

“All right, all right!” said Vasíli, caressingly; “you may go now.⁠ ⁠… I intend racing with the Tartars,” he continued; “he is a good horse. I have trained him so that he can compete with any of them. He goes like the wind.”

He took off the bridle, and the horse trotted off to the hay. We returned to the yourt.

Vasíli’s face was still gloomy. He seemed to have forgotten or perhaps was unwilling to continue his story; but I reminded him of it, saying that I was anxious to hear the end.

“There is not much to tell,” he replied, reluctantly, “and what is the use? It is a sad story; but, as I began it, I suppose I may as well finish it.⁠ ⁠… We travelled in this way twelve days longer, and still we had not reached the end of Saghálin, whereas we ought to have crossed to the Amúr by the eighth day, and all this was due to lack of confidence in our leader. Instead of going by the easier way wherever it were possible, we travelled across the highlands, sometimes through ravines, sometimes plunging into the depths of forests, now crossing barren spots, now forcing our way through thickets.⁠ ⁠… It was slow work. Our provisions were nearly exhausted, for we had only taken food enough to last twelve days.⁠ ⁠… We had to cut down our rations. The supply of biscuits grew short, and everyone had in a measure to provide for himself. Berries, however, were plenty, and finally we reached an estuary of the sea. The water was naturally salt; but when, at times, the flow of the Amúr rushed in greater volume than usual, it became fresh. Well, now we had to think of providing boats to cross to the Amúr side. We were anxiously talking over our plans, and wanted Burán to advise us. The old man had weakened perceptibly;⁠ ⁠… his eyes had grown dim, day by day he lost flesh, and we could get no advice from him, ‘Get the boats from the Ghiláks,’ he said; but where to find the Ghiláks, or how to obtain the boats, he seemed unable to tell. So Volóydka and I said to the boys: ‘You had better remain here, and we will follow the shore, and may possibly chance to fall in with some of the natives and to obtain one or two boats. In the meantime, be on your guard, for there must be an outpost somewhere near by.’

“Most of the boys remained behind, while three of us, following the shore, went on. After a while we came out upon a cliff that overhung the river, on the banks of which we saw a Ghilák mending his sails. God must have sent Orkún to us.”

“What does ‘Orkún’ mean? Was that his name?” I inquired.

“I am sure, I don’t know,” replied Vasíli. “It may have been his name, but I think that in the Ghilák language it means ‘stárosta’⁠—I am not positive. I only know that, as we approached him cautiously lest he might run away, he pointed to himself, repeating: ‘Orkún, Orkún’; but what ‘Orkún’ meant, we did not understand. However, we spoke to him. Volóydka took a stick and drew a boat on the sand, as much as to say, ‘This is what we need.’ The Ghilák understood him at once; he nodded, and raised his fingers⁠—two at first, then five, then the whole ten. For a long time we could not understand what he meant; but at last Makárof guessed.

“ ‘He wants to know how many there are of us, and what kind of boat we need?’

“ ‘Oh, yes! of course, that is what he means!’ and we made signs to the Ghilák that there were twelve of us. He nodded again, so as to let us know that he understood that also. Then he asked us to take him to the rest of our party. We hesitated;⁠—and yet what was there to be done? We could not cross the sea on foot, so we carried him back with us.

“Our comrades blamed us. ‘Why did you bring this Ghilák here? Do you want to betray us?’ But what could we have done? ‘Keep still!’ we replied; ‘we are managing this business!’ Meanwhile, the Ghilák was walking calmly about, examining our coats. We gave him all the extra ones, which he strapped up, and, shouldering them, started on his way, and we, as a matter of course, followed him. A few Ghilák yourts stood below, forming a sort of settlement.

“ ‘What are we to do now, boys? He has gone to the village to call out the inhabitants.’

“ ‘ “What of that!’ we said. ‘There are but four yourts in all; how many people can there be, do you suppose! There are twelve of us, and our knives are three-quarters of an arshin long⁠ ⁠… besides, the Ghiláks are not equal to Russians in strength. They live on fish, and we live on bread. How much strength can anyone gain living on such food! They are not to be compared with us!’ But, to tell the truth, I too was somewhat alarmed lest misfortune should befall us. I thought to myself, ‘We have reached the end of Saghálin; will it ever be our luck to cross to