In the middle of the village they almost ran into a tall man walking down the middle of the street.

“Who are you?” shouted the man, stopping the horse, and recognizing Vasíli Anderéevich he immediately took hold of the shaft, went along it hand over hand till he reached the sledge, and placed himself on the driver’s seat.

He was Isáy, a peasant of Vasíli Andréevich’s acquaintance, and well known as the principal horse-thief in the district.

“Ah, Vasíli Andréevich! Where are you off to?” said Isáy, enveloping Nikíta in the odour of the vodka he had drunk.

“We were going to Goryáchkin.”

“And look where you’ve got to! You should have gone through Molchánovka.”

“Should have, but didn’t manage it,” said Vasíli Andréevich, holding in the horse.