“Why, I am quite worn out and the horse won’t go.”
“Then what’s to be done?”
“Why, wait a minute.”
Nikíta went away again but soon returned.
“Follow me!” he said, going in front of the horse.
Vasíli Andréevich no longer gave orders but implicitly did what Nikíta told him.
“Here, follow me!” Nikíta shouted, stepping quickly to the right, and seizing the rein he led Mukhórty down towards a snowdrift.
At first the horse held back, then he jerked forward, hoping to leap the drift, but he had not the strength and sank into it up to his collar.
“Get out!” Nikíta called to Vasíli Andréevich who still sat in the sledge, and taking hold of one shaft he moved the sledge closer to the horse. “It’s hard, brother!” he said to Mukhórty, “but it can’t be helped. Make an effort! Now, now, just a little one!” he shouted.
The horse gave a tug, then another, but failed to clear himself and settled down again as if considering something.
“Now, brother, this won’t do!” Nikíta admonished him. “Now once more!”
Again Nikíta tugged at the shaft on his side, and Vasíli Andréevich did the same on the other.
Mukhórty lifted his head and then gave a sudden jerk.
“That’s it! That’s it!” cried Nikíta. “Don’t be afraid—you won’t sink!”