“It’s a good thing there are no robbers. But to be ready for anything I have got three revolvers with me,” said the surveyor untruthfully. “And it doesn’t do to trifle with a revolver, you know. One can manage a dozen robbers.⁠ ⁠…”

It had become quite dark. The cart suddenly began creaking, squeaking, shaking, and, as though unwillingly, turned sharply to the left.

“Where is he taking me to?” the surveyor wondered. “He has been driving straight and now all at once to the left. I shouldn’t wonder if he’ll take me, the rascal, to some den of thieves⁠ ⁠… and.⁠ ⁠… Things like that do happen.”

“I say,” he said, addressing the driver, “so you tell me it’s not dangerous here? That’s a pity⁠ ⁠… I like a fight with robbers.⁠ ⁠… I am thin and sickly-looking, but I have the strength of a bull.⁠ ⁠… Once three robbers attacked me and what do you think? I gave one such a dressing that⁠ ⁠… that he gave up his soul to God, you understand, and the other two were sent to penal servitude in Siberia. And where I got the strength I can’t say.⁠ ⁠… One grips a strapping fellow of your sort with one hand and⁠ ⁠… wipes him out.”

Klim looked round at the surveyor, wrinkled up his whole face, and lashed his horse.