The Cossacks: A Tale of 1852 - Лев Толстой

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of when it would be time to wake his comrades, and of going home to the village. In the village he imagined Dunayka, his ‘little soul’, as the Cossacks call a man’s mistress, and thought of her with vexation. Silvery mists, a sign of coming morning, glittered white above the water, and not far from him young eagles were whistling and flapping their wings. At last the crowing of a cock reached him from the distant village, followed by the long-sustained note of another, which was again answered by yet other voices.

      ‘Time to wake them,’ thought Lukashka, who had finished his ramrod and felt his eyes growing heavy. Turning to his comrades he managed to make out which pair of legs belonged to whom, when it suddenly seemed to him that he heard something splash on the other side of the Terek. He turned again towards the horizon beyond the hills, where day was breaking under the upturned crescent, glanced at the outline of the opposite bank, at the Terek, and at the now distinctly visible driftwood upon it. For one instant it seemed to him that he was moving and that the Terek with the drifting wood remained stationary. Again he peered out. One large black log with a branch particularly attracted his attention. The tree was floating in a strange way right down the middle of the stream, neither rocking nor whirling. It even appeared not to be floating altogether with the current, but to be crossing it in the direction of the shallows. Lukashka stretching out his neck watched it intently. The tree floated to the shallows, stopped, and shifted in a peculiar manner. Lukashka thought he saw an arm stretched out from beneath the tree. ‘Supposing I killed an abrek all by myself!’ he thought, and seized his gun with a swift, unhurried movement, putting up his gun-rest, placing the gun upon it, and holding it noiselessly in position. Cocking the trigger, with bated breath he took aim, still peering out intently. ‘I won’t wake them,’ he thought. But his heart began beating so fast that he remained motionless, listening. Suddenly the trunk gave a plunge and again began to float across the stream towards our bank. ‘Only not to miss …’ thought he, and now by the faint light of the moon he caught a glimpse of a Tartar’s head in front of the floating wood. He aimed straight at the head which appeared to be quite near—just at the end of his rifle’s barrel. He glanced cross. ‘Right enough it is an abrek! he thought joyfully, and suddenly rising to his knees he again took aim. Having found the sight, barely visible at the end of the long gun, he said: ‘In the name of the Father and of the Son,’ in the Cossack way learnt in his childhood, and pulled the trigger. A flash of lightning lit up for an instant the reeds and the water, and the sharp, abrupt report of the shot was carried across the river, changing into a prolonged roll somewhere in the far distance. The piece of driftwood now floated not across, but with the current, rocking and whirling.

      ‘Stop, I say!’ exclaimed Ergushov, seizing his musket and raising himself behind the log near which he was lying.

      ‘Shut up, you devil!’ whispered Lukashka, grinding his teeth. ‘Abreks!’

      ‘Whom have you shot?’ asked Nazarka. ‘Who was it, Lukashka?’

      Lukashka did not answer. He was reloading his gun and watching the floating wood. A little way off it stopped on a sand-bank, and from behind it something large that rocked in the water came into view.

      ‘What did you shoot? Why don’t you speak?’ insisted the Cossacks.

      ‘Abreks, I tell you!’ said Lukashka.

      ‘Don’t humbug! Did the gun go off? …’

      ‘I’ve killed an abrek, that’s what I fired at,’ muttered Lukashka in a voice choked by emotion, as he jumped to his feet. ‘A man was swimming …’ he said, pointing to the sandbank. ‘I killed him. Just look there.’

      ‘Have done with your humbugging!’ said Ergushov again, rubbing his eyes.

      ‘Have done with what? Look there,’ said Lukashka, seizing him by the shoulders and pulling him with such force that Ergushov groaned.

      He looked in the direction in which Lukashka pointed, and discerning a body immediately changed his tone.

      ‘O Lord! But I say, more will come! I tell you the truth,’ said he softly, and began examining his musket. ‘That was a scout swimming across: either the others are here already or are not far off on the other side—I tell you for sure!’ Lukashka was unfastening his belt and taking off his Circassian coat.

      ‘What are you up to, you idiot?’ exclaimed Ergushov. ‘Only show yourself and you’ve lost all for nothing, I tell you true! If you’ve killed him he won’t escape. Let me have a little powder for my musket-pan—you have some? Nazarka, you go back to the cordon and look alive; but don’t go along the bank or you’ll be killed—I tell you true.’

      ‘Catch me going alone! Go yourself!’ said Nazarka angrily.

      Having taken off his coat, Lukashka went down to the bank.

      ‘Don’t go in, I tell you!’ said Ergushov, putting some powder on the pan. ‘Look, he’s not moving. I can see. It’s nearly morning; wait till they come from the cordon. You go, Nazarka. You’re afraid! Don’t be afraid, I tell you.’

      ‘Luke, I say, Lukashka! Tell us how you did it!’ said Nazarka.

      Lukashka changed his mind about going into the water just then. ‘Go quick to the cordon and I will watch. Tell the Cossacks to send out the patrol. If the ABREKS are on this side they must be caught,’ said he.

      ‘That’s what I say. They’ll get off,’ said Ergushov, rising. ‘True, they must be caught!’

      Ergushov and Nazarka rose and, crossing themselves, started off for the cordon—not along the riverbank but breaking their way through the brambles to reach a path in the wood.

      ‘Now mind, Lukashka—they may cut you down here, so you’d best keep a sharp look-out, I tell you!’

      ‘Go along; I know,’ muttered Lukashka; and having examined his gun again he sat down behind the log.

      He remained alone and sat gazing at the shallows and listening for the Cossacks; but it was some distance to the cordon and he was tormented by impatience. He kept thinking that the other ABREKS who were with the one he had killed would escape. He was vexed with the ABREKS who were going to escape just as he had been with the boar that had escaped the evening before. He glanced round and at the opposite bank, expecting every moment to see a man, and having arranged his gun-rest he was ready to fire. The idea that he might himself be killed never entered his head.

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      It was growing light. The Chechen’s body which was gently rocking in the shallow water was now clearly visible. Suddenly the reeds rustled not far from Luke and he heard steps and saw the feathery tops of the reeds moving. He set his gun at full cock and muttered: ‘In the name of the Father and of the Son,’ but when the cock clicked the sound of steps ceased.

      ‘Hallo, Cossacks! Don’t kill your Daddy!’ said a deep bass voice calmly; and moving the reeds apart Daddy Eroshka came up close to Luke.

      ‘I very nearly killed you, by God I did!’ said Lukashka.

      ‘What have you shot?’ asked the old man.

      His sonorous voice resounded through the wood and downward along the river, suddenly dispelling the mysterious quiet of night around the Cossack. It was as if everything had suddenly become lighter and more distinct.

      ‘There now. Uncle, you have not seen anything, but I’ve killed a beast,’ said Lukashka, uncocking his gun and getting up with unnatural calmness.

      The old man was staring intently at the white back, now clearly visible, against which the Terek rippled.

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