Emelian, squaring his stalwart shoulders and elbowing his way forward as best he could. Seeing everyone else was elbowing and pushing he, without knowing exactly why, also began to try to force a way for himself through the crowd. On every side people were crushing him, but those in front did not move or let anyone through their ranks—and all were shouting and shrieking and groaning.
Emelian silently clenched his strong teeth and frowned, but without losing heart or strength he steadily continued to push those in front, though he made but little progress.
All at once there was a sudden agitation; the steady surging and swaying was followed by a rush forward to the right. Emelian looked to that side and saw something whizz over his head and fall among the crowd. One, two, three—he realised what it meant, and a voice near him exclaimed:
“Cursed devils—they are throwing the things among the crowd!”
The sound of screaming, laughing and groaning came from that part of the crowd where the bags were falling. Someone gave Emelian a severe blow in the ribs which made him even gloomier and angrier, but before he had time to recover from the blow someone else had trodden on his foot. Then his coat, his new coat, caught and was torn. With a feeling of maliciousness in his heart he exerted all his strength to advance when something suddenly happened which he could not understand; and he found himself in an open space and could see the tents, where the mugs and packets of sweets were to be distributed. Up to then he had seen nothing but the backs of other people in front of him.
He felt glad, but only for a moment, for he realised that the reason he could see all these was because those who were in front had reached the trench and were slipping or rolling over into it, and that he himself was knocked down on top of a mass of people. He was tumbling on those below, and others from behind him were in their turn tumbling on him.