The slanting rays of the sun were still hot; his clothes, soaked

through with perspiration, stuck to his body; his left boot full

of water weighed heavily on his leg and squeaked at every step;

the sweat ran in drops down his powder-grimed face, his mouth

was full of the bitter taste, his nose of the smell of powder and

stagnant water, his ears were ringing with the incessant whir of

the snipe; he could not touch the stock of his gun, it was so

hot; his heart beat with short, rapid throbs; his hands shook

with excitement, and his weary legs stumbled and staggered over

the hillocks and in the swamp, but still he walked on and still

he shot. At last, after a disgraceful miss, he flung his gun and

his hat on the ground.

"No, I must control myself," he said to himself. Picking up his

gun and his hat, he called Laska, and went out of the swamp.

When he got on to dry ground he sat down, pulled off his boot and

emptied it, then walked to the marsh, drank some stagnant-tasting

water, moistened his burning hot gun, and washed his face and

hands. Feeling refreshed, he went back to the spot where a snipe

had settled, firmly resolved to keep cool.

He tried to be calm, but it was the same again. His finger

pressed the cock before he had taken a good aim at the bird. It

got worse and worse.

He had only five birds in his game-bag when he walked out of the

marsh towards the alders where he was to rejoin Stepan

Arkadyevitch.

Before he caught sight of Stepan Arkadyevitch he saw his dog.

Krak darted out from behind the twisted root of an alder, black

all over with the stinking mire of the marsh, and with the air of

a conqueror sniffed at Laska. Behind Krak there came into view

in the shade of the alder tree the shapely figure of Stepan

Arkadyevitch. He came to meet him, red and perspiring, with

unbuttoned neckband, still limping in the same way.

"Well? You have been popping away!" he said, smiling

good-humoredly.

"How have you got on?" queried Levin. But there was no need to

ask, for he had already seen the full game bag.

"Oh, pretty fair."

He had fourteen birds.

"A splendid marsh! I've no doubt Veslovsky got in your way.

It's awkward too, shooting with one dog," said Stepan

Arkadyevitch, to soften his triumph.




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