He began relating to me the story of one of his adventures, but suddenly
stopped and, with fear in his eyes, squinted into a dark corner.

"Is it a rat?" he asked.

"I did not see anything," I replied.

He again became silent and reflected with knitted brow. Often we were
silent through long hours and consequently I was not astonished. Ivan
leaned over near to me and began to whisper.

"I want to tell you an old story. I had a friend in Transbaikalia. He
was a banished convict. His name was Gavronsky. Through many woods
and over many mountains we traveled in search of gold and we had an
agreement to divide all we got into even shares. But Gavronsky suddenly
went out to the 'Taiga' on the Yenisei and disappeared. After five years
we heard that he had found a very rich gold mine and had become a rich
man; then later that he and his wife with him had been murdered. . . ."
Ivan was still for a moment and then continued:

"This is their old hut. Here he lived with his wife and somewhere on
this river he took out his gold. But he told nobody where. All the
peasants around here know that he had a lot of money in the bank
and that he had been selling gold to the Government. Here they were
murdered."

Ivan stepped to the stove, took out a flaming stick and, bending over,
lighted a spot on the floor.

"Do you see these spots on the floor and on the wall? It is their