But Nikíta did not reply. He was too occupied in shaking out the snow and searching for the whip he had dropped when rolling down the incline. Having found the whip he tried to climb straight up the bank where he had rolled down, but it was impossible to do so: he kept rolling down again, and so he had to go along at the foot of the hollow to find a way up. About seven yards farther on he managed with difficulty to crawl up the incline on all fours, then he followed the edge of the hollow back to the place where the horse should have been. He could not see either horse or sledge, but as he walked against the wind he heard Vasíli Andréevich’s shouts and Mukhórty’s neighing, calling him.
‘I’m coming! I’m coming! What are you cackling for?’ he muttered.
Only when he had come up to the sledge could he make out the horse, and Vasíli Andréevich standing beside it and looking gigantic.
‘Where the devil did you vanish to? We must go back, if only to Gríshkino,’ he began reproaching Nikíta.
‘I’d be glad to get back, Vasíli Andréevich, but which way are we to go? There is such a ravine here that if we once get in it we shan’t get out again. I got stuck so fast there myself that I could hardly get out.’
‘What shall we do, then? We can’t stay here! We must go somewhere!’ said Vasíli Andréevich.
Nikíta said nothing. He seated himself in the sledge with his back to the wind, took off his boots, shook out the snow that had got into them, and taking some straw from the bottom of the sledge, carefully plugged with it a hole in his left boot.
Vasíli Andréevich remained silent, as though now leaving everything to Nikíta. Having put his boots on again, Nikíta drew his feet into the sledge, put on his mittens and took up the reins, and directed the horse along the side of the ravine. But they had not gone a hundred yards before the horse again stopped short. The ravine was in front of him again.
Nikíta again climbed out and again trudged about in the snow. He did this for a considerable time and at last appeared from the opposite side to that from which he had started.
‘Vasíli Andréevich, are you alive?’ he called out.
‘Here!’ replied Vasíli Andréevich. ‘Well, what now?’
‘I can’t make anything out. It’s too dark. There’s nothing but ravines. We must drive against the wind again.’
They set off once more. Again Nikíta went stumbling through the snow, again he fell in, again climbed out and trudged about, and at last quite out of breath he sat down beside the sledge.
‘Well, how now?’ asked Vasíli Andréevich.
‘Why, I am quite worn out and the horse won’t go.’
‘Then what’s to be done?’
‘Why, wait a minute.’
Nikíta went away again but soon returned.
‘Follow me!’ he said, going in front of the horse.
Vasíli Andréevich no longer gave orders but implicitly did what Nikíta told him.
‘Here, follow me!’ Nikíta shouted, stepping quickly to the right, and seizing the rein he led Mukhórty down towards a snow-drift.
At first the horse held back, then he jerked forward, hoping to leap the drift, but he had not the strength and sank into it up to his collar.
‘Get out!’ Nikíta called to Vasíli Andréevich who still sat in the sledge, and taking hold of one shaft he moved the sledge closer to the horse. ‘It’s hard, brother!’ he said to Mukhórty, ‘but it can’t be helped. Make an effort! Now, now, just a little one!’ he shouted.
The horse gave a tug, then another, but failed to clear himself and settled down again as if considering something.
‘Now, brother, this won’t do!’ Nikíta admonished him. ‘Now once more!’
Again Nikíta tugged at the shaft on his side, and Vasíli Andréevich did the same on the other.
Mukhórty lifted his head and then gave a sudden jerk.
‘That’s it! That’s it!’ cried Nikíta. ‘Don’t be afraid – you won’t sink!’
One plunge, another, and a third, and at last Mukhórty was out of the snow-drift, and stood still, breathing heavily and shaking the snow off himself. Nikíta wished to lead him farther, but Vasíli Andréevich, in his two fur coats, was so out of breath that he could not walk farther and dropped into the sledge.
‘Let me get my breath!’ he said, unfastening the kerchief with which he had tied the collar of his fur coat at the village.
‘It’s all right here. You lie there,’ said Nikíta. ‘I will lead him along.’ And with Vasíli Andréevich in the sledge he led the horse by the bridle about ten paces down and then up a slight rise, and stopped.
