smooth-frozen road through the village, the runners squeaking slightly
as they went.

'Look at him hanging on there! Hand me the whip, Nikita!' shouted Vasili
Andreevich, evidently enjoying the sight of his 'heir,' who standing on
the runners was hanging on at the back of the sledge. 'I'll give it you!
Be off to mamma, you dog!'

The boy jumped down. The horse increased his amble and, suddenly
changing foot, broke into a fast trot.

The Crosses, the village where Vasili Andreevich lived, consisted of six
houses. As soon as they had passed the blacksmith's hut, the last in
the village, they realized that the wind was much stronger than they
had thought. The road could hardly be seen. The tracks left by the
sledge-runners were immediately covered by snow and the road was only
distinguished by the fact that it was higher than the rest of the
ground. There was a swirl of snow over the fields and the line where sky
and earth met could not be seen. The Telyatin forest, usually clearly
visible, now only loomed up occasionally and dimly through the driving
snowy dust. The wind came from the left, insistently blowing over to
one side the mane on Mukhorty's sleek neck and carrying aside even his
fluffy tail, which was tied in a simple knot. Nikita's wide coat-collar,
as he sat on the windy side, pressed close to his cheek and nose.

'This road doesn't give him a chance--it's too snowy,' said Vasili
Andreevich, who prided himself on his good horse. 'I once drove to
Pashutino with him in half an hour.'

'What?' asked Nikita, who could not hear on account of his collar.