“What a wilderness it is here,” thought the surveyor, trying to cover his ears with the collar of his overcoat.  “Neither post nor paddock.  If, by ill-luck, one were attacked and robbed no one would hear you, whatever uproar you made. . . .  And the driver is not one you could depend on. . . .  Ugh, what a huge back!  A child of nature like that has only to move a finger and it would be all up with one!  And his ugly face is suspicious and brutal-looking.”

“Hey, my good man!” said the surveyor, “What is your name?”

“Mine?  Klim.”

“Well, Klim, what is it like in your parts here?  Not dangerous?  Any robbers on the road?”

“It is all right, the Lord has spared us. . . .  Who should go robbing on the road?”

“It’s a good thing there are no robbers.  But to be ready for anything I have got three revolvers with me,” said the surveyor untruthfully.  “And it doesn’t do to trifle with a revolver, you know.  One can manage a dozen robbers. . . .”

It had become quite dark.  The cart suddenly began creaking, squeaking, shaking, and, as though unwillingly, turned sharply to the left.

“Where is he taking me to?” the surveyor wondered.  “He has been driving straight and now all at once to the left.  I shouldn’t wonder if he’ll take me, the rascal, to some den of thieves . . . and. . . .  Things like that do happen.”

“I say,” he said, addressing the driver, “so you tell me it’s not dangerous here?  That’s a pity. . .  I like a fight with robbers. . . .  I am thin and sickly-looking, but I have the strength of a bull . . . .  Once three robbers attacked me and what do you think?  I gave one such a dressing that. . . that he gave up his soul to God, you understand, and the other two were sent to penal servitude in Siberia.  And where I got the strength I can’t say. . . .  One grips a strapping fellow of your sort with one hand and . . . wipes him out.”

Klim looked round at the surveyor, wrinkled up his whole face, and lashed his horse.

“Yes . . .” the surveyor went on.  “God forbid anyone should tackle me.  The robber would have his bones broken, and, what’s more, he would have to answer for it in the police court too. . . .  I know all the judges and the police captains, I am a man in the Government, a man of importance.  Here I am travelling and the authorities know . . . they keep a regular watch over me to see no one does me a mischief.  There are policemen and village constables stuck behind bushes all along the road. . . .  Sto . . . sto . . . . stop!” the surveyor bawled suddenly.  “Where have you got to?  Where are you taking me to?”

“Why, don’t you see?  It’s a forest!”

“It certainly is a forest,” thought the surveyor.  “I was frightened!  But it won’t do to betray my feelings. . . .  He has noticed already that I am in a funk.  Why is it he has taken to looking round at me so often?  He is plotting something for certain. . . .  At first he drove like a snail and now how he is dashing along!”