The station-master looked at him, thought a bit, and said:  “See here, friend, stay here a while at the station.  You are married, I think.  Where is your wife?”

“Yes, your Excellency, I am married.  My wife is at Kursk, in service with a merchant.”

“Well, write to your wife to come here.  I will give you a free pass for her.  There is a position as track-walker open.  I will speak to the Chief on your behalf.”

“I shall be very grateful to you, your Excellency,” replied Semyon.

He stayed at the station, helped in the kitchen, cut firewood, kept the yard clean, and swept the platform.  In a fortnight’s time his wife arrived, and Semyon went on a hand-trolley to his hut.  The hut was a new one and warm, with as much wood as he wanted.  There was a little vegetable garden, the legacy of former track-walkers, and there was about half a dessiatin of ploughed land on either side of the railway embankment.  Semyon was rejoiced.  He began to think of doing some farming, of purchasing a cow and a horse.

He was given all necessary stores—­a green flag, a red flag, lanterns, a horn, hammer, screw-wrench for the nuts, a crow-bar, spade, broom, bolts, and nails; they gave him two books of regulations and a time-table of the train.  At first Semyon could not sleep at night, and learnt the whole time-table by heart.  Two hours before a train was due he would go over his section, sit on the bench at his hut, and look and listen whether the rails were trembling or the rumble of the train could be heard.  He even learned the regulations by heart, although he could only read by spelling out each word.

It was summer; the work was not heavy; there was no snow to clear away, and the trains on that line were infrequent.  Semyon used to go over his verst twice a day, examine and screw up nuts here and there, keep the bed level, look at the water-pipes, and then go home to his own affairs.  There was only one drawback—­he always had to get the inspector’s permission for the least little thing he wanted to do.  Semyon and his wife were even beginning to be bored.

Two months passed, and Semyon commenced to make the acquaintance of his neighbours, the track-walkers on either side of him.  One was a very old man, whom the authorities were always meaning to relieve.  He scarcely moved out of his hut.  His wife used to do all his work.  The other track-walker, nearer the station, was a young man, thin, but muscular.  He and Semyon met for the first time on the line midway between the huts.  Semyon took off his hat and bowed.  “Good health to you, neighbour,” he said.

The neighbour glanced askance at him.  “How do you do?” he replied; then turned around and made off.

Later the wives met.  Semyon’s wife passed the time of day with her neighbour, but neither did she say much.

On one occasion Semyon said to her:  “Young woman, your husband is not very talkative.”