'We must go straight on, that's all. We shall come out somewhere--if not
at Zakharova, then at the proprietor's farm,' said Nikita.

Vasili Andreevich agreed, and drove as Nikita had indicated. So they
went on for a considerable time. At times they came onto bare fields and
the sledge-runners rattled over frozen lumps of earth. Sometimes they
got onto a winter-rye field, or a fallow field on which they could see
stalks of wormwood, and straws sticking up through the snow and swaying
in the wind; sometimes they came onto deep and even white snow, above
which nothing was to be seen.

The snow was falling from above and sometimes rose from below. The horse
was evidently exhausted, his hair had all curled up from sweat and was
covered with hoar-frost, and he went at a walk. Suddenly he stumbled and
sat down in a ditch or water-course. Vasili Andreevich wanted to stop,
but Nikita cried to him:

'Why stop? We've got in and must get out. Hey, pet! Hey, darling! Gee
up, old fellow!' he shouted in a cheerful tone to the horse, jumping out
of the sledge and himself getting stuck in the ditch.

The horse gave a start and quickly climbed out onto the frozen bank. It
was evidently a ditch that had been dug there.

'Where are we now?' asked Vasili Andreevich.

'We'll soon find out!' Nikita replied. 'Go on, we'll get somewhere.'

'Why, this must be the Goryachkin forest!' said Vasili Andreevich,