Strokinghislongmoustachescoveredwithdew，heseatedhimselfheavilyonthehorseandscreweduphiseyes，lookingintothedistance，asthoughhehadforgottensomethingorleftsomethingunsaid。Inthebluishdistancewherethefurthestvisiblehillockmeltedintothemistnothingwasstirring；theancientbarrows，oncewatch-moundsandtombs，whichrosehereandthereabovethehorizonandtheboundlesssteppehadasullenanddeath-likelook；therewasafeelingofendlesstimeandutterindifferencetomanintheirimmobilityandsilence；anotherthousandyearswouldpass，myriadsofmenwoulddie，whiletheywouldstillstandastheyhadstood，withnoregretforthedeadnorinterestintheliving，andnosoulwouldeverknowwhytheystoodthere，andwhatsecretofthesteppeswashiddenunderthem。
Therooksawakening，flewoneafteranotherinsilenceovertheearth。Nomeaningwastobeseeninthelanguidflightofthoselong-livedbirds，norinthemorningwhichisrepeatedpunctuallyeverytwenty-fourhours，norintheboundlessexpanseofthesteppe。
Theoverseersmiledandsaid:
“Whatspace，Lordhavemercyuponus！Youwouldhaveahunttofindtreasureinit！Here，“hewenton，droppinghisvoiceandmakingaseriousface，“heretherearetwotreasuresburiedforacertainty。Thegentrydon’tknowofthem，buttheoldpeasants，particularlythesoldiers，knowallaboutthem。Here，somewhereonthatridge[theoverseerpointedwithhiswhip]robbersonetimeattackedacaravanofgold；thegoldwasbeingtakenfromPetersburgtotheEmperorPeterwhowasbuildingafleetatthetimeatVoronezh。Therobberskilledthemenwiththecaravanandburiedthegold，butdidnotfinditagainafterwards。AnothertreasurewasburiedbyourCossacksoftheDon。Intheyear’12
theycarriedofflotsofplunderofallsortsfromtheFrench，goodsandgoldandsilver。Whentheyweregoinghomewardstheyheardonthewaythatthegovernmentwantedtotakeawayallthegoldandsilverfromthem。Ratherthangiveuptheirplunderlikethattothegovernmentfornothing，thebravefellowstookandburiedit，sothattheirchildren，anyway，mightgetit；butwheretheyburieditnooneknows。“
“Ihaveheardofthosetreasures，“theoldmanmutteredgrimly。
“Yes“Panteleyponderedagain。“Soitis。“
Asilencefollowed。Theoverseerlookeddreamilyintothedistance，gavealaughandpulledtherein，stillwiththesameexpressionasthoughhehadforgottensomethingorleftsomethingunsaid。Thehorsereluctantlystartedatawalkingpace。AfterridingahundredpacesPanteleyshookhisheadresolutely，rousedhimselffromhisthoughtsand，lashinghishorse，setoffatatrot。
Theshepherdswereleftalone。
“ThatwasPanteleyfromMakarov’sestate，“saidtheoldman。“Hegetsahundredandfiftyayearandprovisionsfound，too。Heisamanofeducation。“
Thesheep，wakingup——therewereaboutthreethousandofthem——beganwithoutzesttowhileawaythetime，nippingatthelow，half-trampledgrass。Thesunhadnotyetrisen，butbynowallthebarrowscouldbeseenand，likeacloudinthedistance，Saur’sGravewithitspeakedtop。Ifoneclambereduponthattombonecouldseetheplainfromit，levelandboundlessasthesky，onecouldseevillages，manor-houses，thesettlementsoftheGermansandoftheMolokani，andalong-sightedKalmuckcouldevenseethetownandtherailway-station。Onlyfromtherecouldoneseethattherewassomethingelseintheworldbesidesthesilentsteppeandtheancientbarrows，thattherewasanotherlifethathadnothingtodowithburiedtreasureandthethoughtsofsheep。
Theoldmanfeltbesidehimforhiscrook——alongstickwithahookattheupperend——andgotup。Hewassilentandthoughtful。Theyoungshepherd’sfacehadnotlostthelookofchildishterrorandcuriosity。Hewasstillundertheinfluenceofwhathehadheardinthenight，andimpatientlyawaitingfreshstories。
“Grandfather，“heasked，gettingupandtakinghiscrook，“whatdidyourbrotherIlyadowiththesoldier？“
Theoldmandidnothearthequestion。Helookedabsent-mindedlyattheyoungman，andanswered，mumblingwithhislips:
“Ikeepthinking，Sanka，aboutthatwritingthatwasshowntothatsoldieratIvanovka。Ididn’ttellPanteley——Godbewithhim——butyouknowinthatwritingtheplacewasmarkedoutsothatevenawomancouldfindit。Doyouknowwhereitis？AtBogataBylotchkaatthespot，youknow，wheretheravinepartslikeagoose’sfootintothreelittleravines；itisthemiddleone。“
“Well，willyoudig？“
“Iwilltrymyluck。“
“And，grandfather，whatwillyoudowiththetreasurewhenyoufindit？“
“Dowithit？“laughedtheoldman。“H’m！IfonlyIcouldfinditthen。Iwouldshowthemall。H’m！I
shouldknowwhattodo。“
Andtheoldmancouldnotanswerwhathewoulddowiththetreasureifhefoundit。Thatquestionhadpresenteditselftohimthatmorningprobablyforthefirsttimeinhislife，andjudgingfromtheexpressionofhisface，indifferentanduncritical，itdidnotseemtohimimportantanddeservingofconsideration。InSanka’sbrainanotherpuzzledquestionwasstirring:whywasitonlyoldmensearchedforhiddentreasure，andwhatwastheuseofearthlyhappinesstopeoplewhomightdieanydayofoldage？ButSankacouldnotputthisperplexityintowords，andtheoldmancouldscarcelyhavefoundananswertoit。
Animmensecrimsonsuncameintoviewsurroundedbyafainthaze。
Broadstreaksoflight，stillcold，bathinginthedewygrass，lengtheningoutwithajoyousairasthoughtoprovetheywerenotwearyoftheirtask，beganspreadingovertheearth。Thesilverywormwood，theblueflowersofthepig’sonion，theyellowmustard，thecorn-flowers——allburstintogaycolours，takingthesunlightfortheirownsmile。
TheoldshepherdandSankapartedandstoodatthefurthersidesoftheflock。Bothstoodlikeposts，withoutmoving，staringatthegroundandthinking。Theformerwashauntedbythoughtsoffortune，thelatterwasponderingonwhathadbeensaidinthenight；whatinterestedhimwasnotthefortuneitself，whichhedidnotwantandcouldnotimagine，butthefantastic，fairy-talecharacterofhumanhappiness。
Ahundredsheepstartedand，insomeinexplicablepanicasatasignal，dashedawayfromtheflock；andasthoughthethoughtsofthesheep——tediousandoppressive——hadforamomentinfectedSankaalso，he，too，dashedasideinthesameinexplicableanimalpanic，butatonceherecoveredhimselfandshouted:
“Youcrazycreatures！You’vegonemad，plaguetakeyou！“
Whenthesun，promisinglonghoursofoverwhelmingheat，begantobaketheearth，alllivingthingsthatinthenighthadmovedandutteredsoundsweresunkindrowsiness。TheoldshepherdandSankastoodwiththeircrooksonoppositesidesoftheflock，stoodwithoutstirring，likefakirsattheirprayers，absorbedinthought。Theydidnotheedeachother；eachofthemwaslivinginhisownlife。Thesheepwerepondering，too。
AMALEFACTOR
ANexceedinglyleanlittlepeasant，inastripedhempenshirtandpatcheddrawers，standsfacingtheinvestigatingmagistrate。Hisfaceovergrownwithhairandpittedwithsmallpox，andhiseyesscarcelyvisibleunderthick，overhangingeyebrowshaveanexpressionofsullenmoroseness。Onhisheadthereisaperfectmopoftangled，unkempthair，whichgiveshimanevenmorespider-likeairofmoroseness。Heisbarefooted。
“DenisGrigoryev！“themagistratebegins。“Comenearer，andanswermyquestions。OntheseventhofthisJulytherailwaywatchman，IvanSemyonovitchAkinfov，goingalongthelineinthemorning，foundyouatthehundred-and-forty-firstmileengagedinunscrewinganutbywhichtherailsaremadefasttothesleepers。Hereitis，thenut！Withtheaforesaidnuthedetainedyou。Wasthatso？“
“Wha-at？“
“WasthisallasAkinfovstates？“
“Tobesure，itwas。“
“Verygood；well，whatwereyouunscrewingthenutfor？“
“Wha-at？“
“Dropthat’wha-at’andanswerthequestion；whatwereyouunscrewingthenutfor？“
“IfIhadn’twanteditIshouldn’thaveunscrewedit，“croaksDenis，lookingattheceiling。
“Whatdidyouwantthatnutfor？“
“Thenut？Wemakeweightsoutofthosenutsforourlines。“
“Whois’we’？“
“We，people。TheKlimovopeasants，thatis。“
“Listen，myman；don’tplaytheidiottome，butspeaksensibly。
It’snousetellinglieshereaboutweights！“
“I’veneverbeenaliarfromachild，andnowI’mtellinglies。“muttersDenis，blinking。“Butcanyoudowithoutaweight，yourhonour？Ifyouputlivebaitormaggotsonahook，woulditgotothebottomwithoutaweight？Iamtellinglies，“
grinsDenis。“Whatthedevilistheuseofthewormifitswimsonthesurface！Theperchandthepikeandtheeel-poutalwaysgotothebottom，andabaitonthesurfaceisonlytakenbyashillisper，notveryoftenthen，andtherearenoshillispersinourriver。Thatfishlikesplentyofroom。“
