Vasili Andreevich went over to his sledge, found it with difficulty in
the darkness, climbed in and took the reins.

'Go on in front!' he cried.

Petrushka kneeling in his low sledge started his horse. Mukhorty, who
had been neighing for some time past, now scenting a mare ahead of him
started after her, and they drove out into the street. They drove again
through the outskirts of the village and along the same road, past the
yard where the frozen linen had hung (which, however, was no longer to
be seen), past the same barn, which was now snowed up almost to the
roof and from which the snow was still endlessly pouring past the same
dismally moaning, whistling, and swaying willows, and again entered into
the sea of blustering snow raging from above and below. The wind was
so strong that when it blew from the side and the travellers steered
against it, it tilted the sledges and turned the horses to one side.
Petrushka drove his good mare in front at a brisk trot and kept shouting
lustily. Mukhorty pressed after her.

After travelling so for about ten minutes, Petrushka turned round and
shouted something. Neither Vasili Andreevich nor Nikita could hear
anything because of the wind, but they guessed that they had arrived at
the turning. In fact Petrushka had turned to the right, and now the wind
that had blown from the side blew straight in their faces, and through
the snow they saw something dark on their right. It was the bush at the
turning.

'Well now, God speed you!'

'Thank you, Petrushka!'