“That’s a good horse,” said Isáy, with a shrewd glance at Mukhórty, and with a practised hand he tightened the loosened knot high in the horse’s bushy tail.

“Are you going to stay the night?”

“No, friend. I must get on.”

“Your business must be pressing. And who is this? Ah, Nikíta Stepánych!”

“Who else?” replied Nikíta. “But I say, good friend, how are we to avoid going astray again?”

“Where can you go astray here? Turn back straight down the street and then when you come out keep straight on. Don’t take to the left. You will come out onto the high road, and then turn to the right.”

“And where do we turn off the high road? As in summer, or the winter way?” asked Nikíta.