"You have lost it by the way," said he, "and pray what is that which
jingles in your pocket, barefaced liar that you are?"
"Jingling in my pocket?" replied the "ouriadnik," not a whit
disconcerted; "God forgive you, old man, 'tis a bridlebit, and never a
half rouble."
"Well! well!" said I, putting an end to the dispute. "Thank from me he
who sent you: and you may as well try as you go back to find the lost
half rouble and keep it for yourself."
"Many thanks, your lordship," said he, turning his horse round; "I will
pray God for ever for you."
With these words, he started off at a gallop, keeping one hand on his
pocket, and was soon out of sight. I put on the "touloup" and mounted
the horse, taking up Saveliitch behind me.
"Don't you see, your lordship," said the old man, "that it was not in
vain that I presented my petition to the robber? The robber was ashamed
of himself, although this long and lean Bashkir hoss and this peasant's
'touloup' be not worth half what those rascals stole from us, nor what
you deigned to give him as a present, still they may be useful to us.
'From an evil dog be glad of a handful of hairs.'"