His heart was divided between fear⁠—fear for himself and for his own life⁠—and anger at those wild creatures who were pushing him. In spite of this, the aim with which he had set out⁠—to reach the tents and get hold of a packet with a lottery ticket⁠—still drew him on.

The tents were now close at hand. He could see the distributors quite distinctly and could hear the cries of those who had arrived at the tents and the creaking of the boards on which the people in front were crowding.

Emelian stumbled. He had only about twenty paces more to go when he heard a child’s scream under or rather between his feet. Emelian looked down and saw a bareheaded boy in a torn shirt lying face downwards, crying incessantly, and clutching at his legs. He felt his heart stop beating. All fear for himself immediately disappeared and with it his anger against the rest. He was sorry for the boy and, stooping down, put his arm round his waist, but those behind him were pushing so violently that he nearly fell and let go the child. Summoning his strength for a supreme effort he caught him up again and lifted him on his shoulders. For a moment the crush became less and Emelian managed to carry off the child.