wheel so that the stream should work it. The wheel began to turn and the dolls danced.
The whole village collected round. Little boys and girls, Tartar men and women, all came and clicked their tongues.
“Ah, Russ! Ah, Iván!”
Abdul had a Russian clock, which was broken. He called Zhílin and showed it to him, clicking his tongue.
“Give it me, I’ll mend it for you,” said Zhílin.
He took it to pieces with the knife, sorted the pieces, and put them together again, so that the clock went all right.
The master was delighted, and made him a present of one of his old tunics which was all in holes. Zhílin had to accept it. He could, at any rate, use it as a coverlet at night.
After that Zhílin’s fame spread; and Tartars came from distant villages, bringing him now the lock of a gun or of a pistol, now a watch, to mend. His master gave him some tools—pincers, gimlets, and a file.
One day a Tartar fell ill, and they came to Zhílin saying, “Come and heal him!” Zhílin knew nothing about doctoring, but he went to look, and thought to himself, “Perhaps he will get well anyway.”
He returned to the barn, mixed some water with sand, and then in the presence of the Tartars whispered some words over it and gave it to the sick man to drink. Luckily for him, the Tartar recovered.
Zhílin began to pick up their language a little, and some of the Tartars grew familiar with him. When they wanted him, they would call: “Iván! Iván!” Others, however, still looked at him askance, as at a wild beast.