“Hallo, lad! why so fierce?  You go and rouse your boss while we wait here?”

The sentinel gave no answer, but shouted something in at the gate and stood looking at the broad-shouldered young labourer scraping the mud off Nekhludoff’s boots with a chip of wood by the light of the lamp.  From behind the palisade came the hum of male and female voices.  In about three minutes more something rattled, the gate opened, and a sergeant, with his cloak thrown over his shoulders, stepped out of the darkness into the lamplight.

The sergeant was not as strict as the sentinel, but he was extremely inquisitive.  He insisted on knowing what Nekhludoff wanted the officer for, and who he was, evidently scenting his booty and anxious not to let it escape.  Nekhludoff said he had come on special business, and would show his gratitude, and would the sergeant take a note for him to the officer.  The sergeant took the note, nodded, and went away.  Some time after the gate rattled again, and women carrying baskets, boxes, jugs and sacks came out, loudly chattering in their peculiar Siberian dialect as they stepped over the threshold of the gate.  None of them wore peasant costumes, but were dressed town fashion, wearing jackets and fur-lined cloaks.  Their skirts were tucked up high, and their heads wrapped up in shawls.  They examined Nekhludoff and his guide curiously by the light of the lamp.  One of them showed evident pleasure at the sight of the broad-shouldered fellow, and affectionately administered to him a dose of Siberian abuse.

“You demon, what are you doing here?  The devil take you,” she said, addressing him.

“I’ve been showing this traveller here the way,” answered the young fellow.  “And what have you been bringing here?”

“Dairy produce, and I am to bring more in the morning.”

The guide said something in answer that made not only the women but even the sentinel laugh, and, turning to Nekhludoff, he said: 

“You’ll find your way alone?  Won’t get lost, will you?”

“I shall find it all right.”

“When you have passed the church it’s the second from the two-storied house.  Oh, and here, take my staff,” he said, handing the stick he was carrying, and which was longer than himself, to Nekhludoff; and splashing through the mud with his enormous boots, he disappeared in the darkness, together with the women.

His voice mingling with the voices of the women was still audible through the fog, when the gate again rattled, and the sergeant appeared and asked Nekhludoff to follow him to the officer.

CHAPTER VIII.

NEKHLUDOFF AND THE OFFICER.

This halting station, like all such stations along the Siberian road, was surrounded by a courtyard, fenced in with a palisade of sharp-pointed stakes, and consisted of three one-storied houses.  One of them, the largest, with grated windows, was for the prisoners, another for the convoy soldiers, and the third, in which the office was, for the officers.