“Why, do you think they’ll catch them?”

“I don’t believe they’ll ever catch them!” another of the enthusiasts pronounces, banging the table with his fist.

“H’m! That’s all a matter of luck.”

“And I tell you what I think, lads,” Skuratov breaks in, “if I were a tramp, they’d never catch me.”

“You!”

There is laughter, though some pretend not to want to listen. But there is no stopping Skuratov.

“Not if I know it!” he goes on vigorously. “I often think about it and wonder at myself, lads. I believe I’d creep through any chink before they catch me.”

“No fear! You’d get hungry and go to a peasant for bread.”

General laughter.