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"Get in, get in!" shouted one of them, a young thick-necked

peasant with a fleshy face red as a carrot. "I'll take you all,

get in!"

But at once there was an outbreak of laughter and exclamations in

the crowd.

"Take us all with a beast like that!"

"Why, Mikolka, are you crazy to put a nag like that in such a

cart?"

"And this mare is twenty if she is a day, mates!"

"Get in, I'll take you all," Mikolka shouted again, leaping first

into the cart, seizing the reins and standing straight up in

front. "The bay has gone with Matvey," he shouted from the

cart--"and this brute, mates, is just breaking my heart, I feel

as if I could kill her. She's just eating her head off. Get in, I

tell you! I'll make her gallop! She'll gallop!" and he picked up

the whip, preparing himself with relish to flog the little mare.

"Get in! Come along!" The crowd laughed. "D'you hear, she'll

gallop!"

"Gallop indeed! She has not had a gallop in her for the last ten

years!"

"She'll jog along!"