“Hey!  Where are we going?” suddenly asked Gavrilo.

Tchelkache started and turned around with the uneasy glance of a wild beast.

“Oh! the devil!  Never mind. . .  Row more cautiously. . .  We’re almost there.”

“Were you dreaming?” asked Gavrilo, smiling.

Tchelkache looked searchingly at him.  The lad was entirely himself again; calm, gay, he even seemed complacent.  He was very young, all his life was before him.  That was bad!  But perhaps the soil would retain him.  At this thought, Tchelkache grew sad again, and growled out in reply: 

“I’m tired! . . . and the boat rocks!”

“Of course it rocks!  So, now, there’s no danger of being caught with this?”

Gavrilo kicked the bales.

“No, be quiet.  I’m going to deliver them at once and receive the money.  Yes!”

“Five hundred?”

“Not less, probably. . .”

“It’s a lot!  If I had it, poor beggar that I am, I’d soon let it be known.”

“At the village? . . .”

“Sure! without delay. . .”

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,