Elisha waved his hand. “The evil habit is stronger than I,” he said.
Presently they got up and went on. After walking for nearly another eight miles, they came to a large village and passed right through it. It had now grown hot. Elisha was tired out and wanted to rest and have a drink, but Efím did not stop. Efím was the better walker of the two, and Elisha found it hard to keep up with him.
“If I could only have a drink,” said he.
“Well, have a drink,” said Efím. “I don’t want any.”
Elisha stopped.
“You go on,” he said, “but I’ll just run in to the little hut there. I will catch you up in a moment.”
“All right,” said Efím, and he went on along the high road alone, while Elisha turned back to the hut.
It was a small hut plastered with clay, the bottom a dark colour, the top whitewashed; but the clay had crumbled away. Evidently it was long since it had been re-plastered, and the thatch was off the roof on one side. The entrance to the hut was through the yard. Elisha entered the yard, and saw, lying close to a bank of earth that ran round the hut, a gaunt, beardless man with his shirt tucked into his trousers, as is the custom in Little Russia The man must have lain down in the shade, but the sun had come round and now shone full on him. Though not asleep, he still lay there. Elisha called to him, and asked for a drink, but the man gave no answer.
“He is either ill or unfriendly,” thought Elisha; and going to the door he heard a child crying in the hut. He took hold of the ring that served as a door-handle, and knocked with it.
“Hey, masters!” he called. No answer. He knocked again with his staff.