Sanine

They had to walk nearly a verst before they reached the marsh. The sun

had almost set, and the soil, covered with lush grasses and reeds, felt

moist beneath their feet. It looked darker, and had a damp smell, while

in places water shimmered. Riasantzeff had ceased smoking, and stood

with legs wide apart, looking suddenly grave as if he had to begin an

important and responsible task. Yourii kept to the right, trying to

find a dry comfortable place. In front of them lay the water which,

reflecting the clear evening sky, looked pure and deep. The other bank,

like a black stripe, could be discerned in the distance.

Almost immediately, in twos and threes, ducks rose and flew slowly over

the water, starting up suddenly out of the rushes, and then passing

over the sportsmen's heads, a row of silhouettes against the saffron

sky. Raisantzeff had the first shot, and with success. A wounded duck

tumbled sideways into the water, beating down the rushes with its

wings.

"I hit it!" exclaimed Riasantzeff, as he gaily laughed aloud.

"He's really a good sort of fellow," thought Yourii, whose turn it was

to shoot. He brought down his bird also, but it fell at such a distance

that he could not find it, though he scratched his hands and waded

knee-deep through the water. This disappointment only made him more

keen; it was fine fun, so he thought.

Amid the clear, cool air from the river the gun-smoke had a strangely

pleasant smell, and, in the darkening landscape, the merry shots

flashed out with charming effect. The wounded wild fowl, as they fell,

described graceful curves against the pale green sky where now the

first faint stars gleamed. Yourii felt unusually energetic and gay. It

was as if he had never taken part in anything so interesting or

exhilarating. The birds rose more rarely now, and the deepening dusk

made it more difficult to take aim.

"Hullo there! We must get home!" shouted Riasantzeff, from a distance.

Yourii felt sorry to go, but in accordance with his companion's

suggestion he advanced to meet him, stumbling over rushes and splashing

through the water which in the dusk was not distinguishable from dry

soil. As they met, their eyes flashed, and they were both breathless.

"Well," asked Riasantzeff, "did you have any luck?"

"I should say so," replied Yourii, displaying his well-filled bag.

"Ah! you're a better shot than I am," said Riasantzeff pleasantly.

Yourii was delighted by such praise, although he always professed to

care nothing for physical strength or skill. "I don't know about

better," he observed carelessly, "It was just luck."