The Cossacks by Leo Tolstoy Page B

was a blind, behind which he hid to shoot pheasants, and a bag with a chicken and a small falcon for baiting hawks. Over his other shoulder he carried a slaughtered wildcat strung on a leather strap. Another bag filled with bullets, gunpowder, and bread hung from his belt in back, along with a horse’s tail to swat away mosquitoes, a large dagger in a torn sheath spattered with dried blood, and two dead pheasants. He peered at the checkpoint and stopped.
    “Heel, Lyam!” he shouted to his dog, in such a sonorous bass that the echo resounded deep into the woods. He slung the large percussion musket that the Cossacks call a
flinta
onto his shoulder and raised his hat.
    “A good day to you!” he called to the Cossacks in the same strong, cheerful bass, completely effortless but loud, as if he were calling to the opposite bank of the river.
    “And a good day to you, Uncle! A good day to you!” the voices of the young Cossacks called back from all directions.
    “Tell me if you’ve seen any game!” Uncle Eroshka shouted, wiping the sweat off his broad, handsome face with the sleeve of his jacket.
    “There’s a fine hawk nesting in that plane tree over there! The moment the sun sets he starts hovering right overhead,” Nazarka said with a wink, clownishly jerking his shoulders.
    “Tall tales!” the old man said incredulously.
    “No, it’s true, Uncle! If you lie in wait here for the next few hours, you’ll see!” Nazarka replied with a chuckle.
    The Cossacks began to laugh. Nazarka had never seen a hawk hovering above the checkpoint, but the young men stationed there liked to tease Uncle Eroshka whenever they saw him.
    “You fool, you’re always lying!” Lukashka called down from the tower to Nazarka, who immediately fell silent.
    “If you think I should lie in wait, then I’ll lie in wait!” the old man said, to the great amusement of the Cossacks. “Have you seen any boars?”
    “Boars? Do you think we’re keeping a lookout for boars here?” the sergeant said, leaning forward and scratching his back with both hands, pleased at the opportunity for some distraction. “It’s Chechen marauders we’re hunting, not wild boars!
You’ve
not heard anything, have you?” he added, narrowing his eyes and showing his white, close-set teeth.
    “Chechen marauders?” the old man repeated. “No, I haven’t heard anything. Do you have any good Chikhir wine? Give me a drink, I’m all worn out! When I get a chance, I’ll bring you some nice fresh meat. Give me a drink!”
    “So what are you going to do, lie in wait for game?” the sergeant asked, as if he had not heard what the old man had said.
    “I was going to lie in wait all night,” Uncle Eroshka replied. “I was thinking that I might, God willing, bag some game for the festival—then I’ll give you some too, I swear!”
    “Hey, Uncle Eroshka!” Lukashka called from the tower, and all the Cossacks looked up. “Head over to the runlet upstream—I see a big litter of boars there! I’m not joking, I swear! The other day one of our men shot a beast there. I swear I’m not joking!” he added in a serious tone, slinging his rifle behind his back.
    “Ah, Lukashka the Snatcher is here!” the old man said, looking up at the tower. “Where was it that your friend shot the beast?”
    “Didn’t you see me? I suppose I’m too high up,” Lukashka said. “He shot it right by the runlet,” he added. “We were walking along there when we heard a crackling sound, but my rifle was in its sling. So Ilyaska shot it. I’ll show you where it was—it’s not that far. Just wait a moment, I know all the paths here!”
    Lukashka looked over to the sergeant and with a decisive, almost commanding tone, called down from the watchtower, “Uncle Mosyev!It’s time to change shifts!” He grabbed his rifle and began climbing down without waiting for the sergeant’s response.
    “You can come down!” the sergeant called and looked around at the other men.