How Much Land Does a Man Need?

I

An elder sister came to visit her younger sister in the country.

The elder was married to a tradesman in town, the younger to a

peasant in the village. As the sisters sat over their tea talking,

the elder began to boast of the advantages of town life: saying how

comfortably they lived there, how well they dressed, what fine

clothes her children wore, what good things they ate and drank, and

how she went to the theatre, promenades, and entertainments.

The younger sister was piqued, and in turn disparaged the life of a

tradesman, and stood up for that of a peasant.

"I would not change my way of life for yours," said she. "We may

live roughly, but at least we are free from anxiety. You live in

better style than we do, but though you often earn more than you

need, you are very likely to lose all you have. You know the proverb,

'Loss and gain are brothers twain.' It often happens that people who

are wealthy one day are begging their bread the next. Our way is

safer. Though a peasant's life is not a fat one, it is a long one.

We shall never grow rich, but we shall always have enough to eat."

The elder sister said sneeringly:

"Enough? Yes, if you like to share with the pigs and the calves!

What do you know of elegance or manners! However much your good man

may slave, you will die as you are living-on a dung heap-and your

children the same."

"Well, what of that?" replied the younger. "Of course our work is

rough and coarse. But, on the other hand, it is sure; and we need

not bow to any one. But you, in your towns, are surrounded by

temptations; today all may be right, but tomorrow the Evil One may

tempt your husband with cards, wine, or women, and all will go to

ruin. Don't such things happen often enough?"

Pahom, the master of the house, was lying on the top of the oven,

and he listened to the women's chatter.

"It is perfectly true," thought he. "Busy as we are from childhood

tilling Mother Earth, we peasants have no time to let any nonsense

settle in our heads. Our only trouble is that we haven't land

enough. If I had plenty of land, I shouldn't fear the Devil himself!"

The women finished their tea, chatted a while about dress, and then

cleared away the tea-things and lay down to sleep.

But the Devil had been sitting behind the oven, and had heard all

that was said. He was pleased that the peasant's wife had led her

husband into boasting, and that he had said that if he had plenty of

land he would not fear the Devil himself.

"All right," thought the Devil. "We will have a tussle. I'll give you

land enough; and by means of that land I will get you into my power."



II

Close to the village there lived a lady, a small landowner, who had

an estate of about three hundred acres. She had always lived on

good terms with the peasants, until she engaged as her steward an

old soldier, who took to burdening the people with fines. However

careful Pahom tried to be, it happened again and again that now a

horse of his got among the lady's oats, now a cow strayed into her

garden, now his calves found their way into her meadows-and he

always had to pay a fine.

Pahom paid, but grumbled, and, going home in a temper, was rough

with his family. All through that summer Pahom had much trouble

because of this steward; and he was even glad when winter came and

the cattle had to be stabled. Though he grudged the fodder when

they could no longer graze on the pasture-land, at least he was free

from anxiety about them.

In the winter the news got about that the lady was going to sell her

land, and that the keeper of the inn on the high road was bargaining

for it. When the peasants heard this they were very much alarmed.

"Well," thought they, "if the innkeeper gets the land he will worry us

with fines worse than the lady's steward. We all depend on that estate."

So the peasants went on behalf of their Commune, and asked the lady

not to sell the land to the innkeeper; offering her a better price

for it themselves. The lady agreed to let them have it. Then the

peasants tried to arrange for the Commune to buy the whole estate,

so that it might be held by all in common. They met twice to

discuss it, but could not settle the matter; the Evil One sowed

discord among them, and they could not agree. So they decided to

buy the land individually, each according to his means; and the lady

agreed to this plan as she had to the other.

Presently Pahom heard that a neighbor of his was buying fifty acres,

and that the lady had consented to accept one half in cash and to

wait a year for the other half. Pahom felt envious.

"Look at that," thought he, "the land is all being sold, and I shall

get none of it." So he spoke to his wife.

"Other people are buying," said he, "and we must also buy twenty

acres or so. Life is becoming impossible. That steward is simply

crushing us with his fines."

So they put their heads together and considered how they could

manage to buy it. They had one hundred roubles laid by. They sold

a colt, and one half of their bees; hired out one of their sons as a

laborer, and took his wages in advance; borrowed the rest from a

brother-in-law, and so scraped together half the purchase money.

Having done this, Pahom chose out a farm of forty acres, some of it

wooded, and went to the lady to bargain for it. They came to an

agreement, and he shook hands with her upon it, and paid her a

deposit in advance. Then they went to town and signed the deeds; he

paying half the price down, and undertaking to pay the remainder

within two years.

So now Pahom had land of his own. He borrowed seed, and sowed it on

the land he had bought. The harvest was a good one, and within a

year he had managed to pay off his debts both to the lady and to his

brother-in-law. So he became a landowner, ploughing and sowing his

own land, making hay on his own land, cutting his own trees, and

feeding his cattle on his own pasture. When he went out to plough

his fields, or to look at his growing corn, or at his grass meadows,

his heart would fill with joy. The grass that grew and the flowers

that bloomed there, seemed to him unlike any that grew elsewhere.

Formerly, when he had passed by that land, it had appeared the same

as any other land, but now it seemed quite different.



III

So Pahom was well contented, and everything would have been right if

the neighboring peasants would only not have trespassed on his corn-

fields and meadows. He appealed to them most civilly, but they

still went on: now the Communal herdsmen would let the village cows

stray into his meadows; then horses from the night pasture would get

among his corn. Pahom turned them out again and again, and forgave

their owners, and for a long time he forbore from prosecuting any

one. But at last he lost patience and complained to the District

Court. He knew it was the peasants' want of land, and no evil

intent on their part, that caused the trouble; but he thought:

"I cannot go on overlooking it, or they will destroy all I have.

They must be taught a lesson."

So he had them up, gave them one lesson, and then another, and two

or three of the peasants were fined. After a time Pahom's

neighbours began to bear him a grudge for this, and would now and

then let their cattle on his land on purpose. One peasant even got

into Pahom's wood at night and cut down five young lime trees for

their bark. Pahom passing through the wood one day noticed

something white. He came nearer, and saw the stripped trunks lying

on the ground, and close by stood the stumps, where the tree had

been. Pahom was furious.

"If he had only cut one here and there it would have been bad enough,"

thought Pahom, "but the rascal has actually cut down a whole clump.

If I could only find out who did this, I would pay him out."

He racked his brains as to who it could be. Finally he decided: "It

must be Simon-no one else could have done it." Se he went to

Simon's homestead to have a look around, but he found nothing, and

only had an angry scene. However' he now felt more certain than

ever that Simon had done it, and he lodged a complaint. Simon was

summoned. The case was tried, and re-tried, and at the end of it

all Simon was acquitted, there being no evidence against him. Pahom

felt still more aggrieved, and let his anger loose upon the Elder

and the Judges.

"You let thieves grease your palms," said he. "If you were honest

folk yourselves, you would not let a thief go free."

So Pahom quarrelled with the Judges and with his neighbors. Threats

to burn his building began to be uttered. So though Pahom had more

land, his place in the Commune was much worse than before.

About this time a rumor got about that many people were moving to

new parts.

"There's no need for me to leave my land," thought Pahom. "But some

of the others might leave our village, and then there would be more

room for us. I would take over their land myself, and make my

estate a bit bigger. I could then live more at ease. As it is, I

am still too cramped to be comfortable."

One day Pahom was sitting at home, when a peasant passing through

the village, happened to call in. He was allowed to stay the night,

and supper was given him. Pahom had a talk with this peasant and

asked him where he came from. The stranger answered that he came

from beyond the Volga, where he had been working. One word led to

another, and the man went on to say that many people were settling

in those parts. He told how some people from his village had

settled there. They had joined the Commune, and had had twenty-five

acres per man granted them. The land was so good, he said, that the

rye sown on it grew as high as a horse, and so thick that five cuts

of a sickle made a sheaf. One peasant, he said, had brought nothing

with him but his bare hands, and now he had six horses and two cows

of his own.

Pahom's heart kindled with desire. He thought:

"Why should I suffer in this narrow hole, if one can live so well

elsewhere? I will sell my land and my homestead here, and with the

money I will start afresh over there and get everything new. In

this crowded place one is always having trouble. But I must first

go and find out all about it myself."

Towards summer he got ready and started. He went down the Volga on

a steamer to Samara, then walked another three hundred miles on

foot, and at last reached the place. It was just as the stranger

had said. The peasants had plenty of land: every man had twenty-

five acres of Communal land given him for his use, and any one who

had money could buy, besides, at fifty-cents an acre as much good

freehold land as he wanted.

Having found out all he wished to know, Pahom returned home as

autumn came on, and began selling off his belongings. He sold his

land at a profit, sold his homestead and all his cattle, and

withdrew from membership of the Commune. He only waited till the

spring, and then started with his family for the new settlement.



IV

As soon as Pahom and his family arrived at their new abode, he

applied for admission into the Commune of a large village. He stood

treat to the Elders, and obtained the necessary documents. Five

shares of Communal land were given him for his own and his sons'

use: that is to say--125 acres (not altogether, but in different

fields) besides the use of the Communal pasture. Pahom put up the

buildings he needed, and bought cattle. Of the Communal land alone

he had three times as much as at his former home, and the land was

good corn-land. He was ten times better off than he had been. He

had plenty of arable land and pasturage, and could keep as many head

of cattle as he liked.

At first, in the bustle of building and settling down, Pahom was

pleased with it all, but when he got used to it he began to think

that even here he had not enough land. The first year, he sowed

wheat on his share of the Communal land, and had a good crop. He

wanted to go on sowing wheat, but had not enough Communal land for

the purpose, and what he had already used was not available; for in

those parts wheat is only sown on virgin soil or on fallow land. It

is sown for one or two years, and then the land lies fallow till it

is again overgrown with prairie grass. There were many who wanted

such land, and there was not enough for all; so that people

quarrelled about it. Those who were better off, wanted it for

growing wheat, and those who were poor, wanted it to let to dealers,

so that they might raise money to pay their taxes. Pahom wanted to

sow more wheat; so he rented land from a dealer for a year. He

sowed much wheat and had a fine crop, but the land was too far from

the village--the wheat had to be carted more than ten miles. After

a time Pahom noticed that some peasant-dealers were living on

separate farms, and were growing wealthy; and he thought:

"If I were to buy some freehold land, and have a homestead on it, it

would be a different thing, altogether. Then it would all be nice

and compact."

The question of buying freehold land recurred to him again and again.

He went on in the same way for three years; renting land and sowing

wheat. The seasons turned out well and the crops were good, so that

he began to lay money by. He might have gone on living contentedly,

but he grew tired of having to rent other people's land every year,

and having to scramble for it. Wherever there was good land to be

had, the peasants would rush for it and it was taken up at once, so

that unless you were sharp about it you got none. It happened in

the third year that he and a dealer together rented a piece of

pasture land from some peasants; and they had already ploughed it

up, when there was some dispute, and the peasants went to law about

it, and things fell out so that the labor was all lost.

"If it were my own land," thought Pahom, "I should be independent,

and there would not be all this unpleasantness."

So Pahom began looking out for land which he could buy; and he came

across a peasant who had bought thirteen hundred acres, but having

got into difficulties was willing to sell again cheap. Pahom

bargained and haggled with him, and at last they settled the price

at 1,500 roubles, part in cash and part to be paid later. They had

all but clinched the matter, when a passing dealer happened to stop

at Pahom's one day to get a feed for his horse. He drank tea with

Pahom, and they had a talk. The dealer said that he was just

returning from the land of the Bashkirs, far away, where he had

bought thirteen thousand acres of land all for 1,000 roubles. Pahom

questioned him further, and the tradesman said:

"All one need do is to make friends with the chiefs. I gave away

about one hundred roubles' worth of dressing-gowns and carpets,

besides a case of tea, and I gave wine to those who would drink it;

and I got the land for less than two cents an acre. And he showed

Pahom the title-deeds, saying:

"The land lies near a river, and the whole prairie is virgin soil."

Pahom plied him with questions, and the tradesman said:

"There is more land there than you could cover if you walked a year,

and it all belongs to the Bashkirs. They are as simple as sheep,

and land can be got almost for nothing."

"There now," thought Pahom, "with my one thousand roubles, why

should I get only thirteen hundred acres, and saddle myself with a

debt besides. If I take it out there, I can get more than ten times

as much for the money."



V

Pahom inquired how to get to the place, and as soon as the tradesman

had left him, he prepared to go there himself. He left his wife to

look after the homestead, and started on his journey taking his man

with him. They stopped at a town on their way, and bought a case of

tea, some wine, and other presents, as the tradesman had advised.

On and on they went until they had gone more than three hundred

miles, and on the seventh day they came to a place where the

Bashkirs had pitched their tents. It was all just as the tradesman

had said. The people lived on the steppes, by a river, in felt-

covered tents. They neither tilled the ground, nor ate bread.

Their cattle and horses grazed in herds on the steppe. The colts

were tethered behind the tents, and the mares were driven to them

twice a day. The mares were milked, and from the milk kumiss was

made. It was the women who prepared kumiss, and they also made

cheese. As far as the men were concerned, drinking kumiss and tea,

eating mutton, and playing on their pipes, was all they cared about.

They were all stout and merry, and all the summer long they never

thought of doing any work. They were quite ignorant, and knew no

Russian, but were good-natured enough.

As soon as they saw Pahom, they came out of their tents and gathered

round their visitor. An interpreter was found, and Pahom told them

he had come about some land. The Bashkirs seemed very glad; they

took Pahom and led him into one of the best tents, where they made

him sit on some down cushions placed on a carpet, while they sat

round him. They gave him tea and kumiss, and had a sheep killed,

and gave him mutton to eat. Pahom took presents out of his cart and

distributed them among the Bashkirs, and divided amongst them the

tea. The Bashkirs were delighted. They talked a great deal among

themselves, and then told the interpreter to translate.

"They wish to tell you," said the interpreter, "that they like you,

and that it is our custom to do all we can to please a guest and to

repay him for his gifts. You have given us presents, now tell us

which of the things we possess please you best, that we may present

them to you."

"What pleases me best here," answered Pahom, "is your land. Our

land is crowded, and the soil is exhausted; but you have plenty of

land and it is good land. I never saw the like of it."

The interpreter translated. The Bashkirs talked among themselves

for a while. Pahom could not understand what they were saying, but

saw that they were much amused, and that they shouted and laughed.

Then they were silent and looked at Pahom while the interpreter said:

"They wish me to tell you that in return for your presents they will

gladly give you as much land as you want. You have only to point it

out with your hand and it is yours."

The Bashkirs talked again for a while and began to dispute. Pahom

asked what they were disputing about, and the interpreter told him

that some of them thought they ought to ask their Chief about the

land and not act in his absence, while others thought there was no

need to wait for his return.



VI

While the Bashkirs were disputing, a man in a large fox-fur cap

appeared on the scene. They all became silent and rose to their

feet. The interpreter said, "This is our Chief himself."

Pahom immediately fetched the best dressing-gown and five pounds of

tea, and offered these to the Chief. The Chief accepted them, and

seated himself in the place of honour. The Bashkirs at once began

telling him something. The Chief listened for a while, then made a

sign with his head for them to be silent, and addressing himself to

Pahom, said in Russian:

"Well, let it be so. Choose whatever piece of land you like; we

have plenty of it."

"How can I take as much as I like?" thought Pahom. "I must get a

deed to make it secure, or else they may say, 'It is yours,' and

afterwards may take it away again."

"Thank you for your kind words," he said aloud. "You have much

land, and I only want a little. But I should like to be sure which

bit is mine. Could it not be measured and made over to me? Life and

death are in God's hands. You good people give it to me, but your

children might wish to take it away again."

"You are quite right," said the Chief. "We will make it over to you."

"I heard that a dealer had been here," continued Pahom, "and that

you gave him a little land, too, and signed title-deeds to that

effect. I should like to have it done in the same way."

The Chief understood.

"Yes," replied he, "that can be done quite easily. We have a scribe,

and we will go to town with you and have the deed properly sealed."

"And what will be the price?" asked Pahom.

"Our price is always the same: one thousand roubles a day."

Pahom did not understand.

"A day? What measure is that? How many acres would that be?"

"We do not know how to reckon it out," said the Chief. "We sell it

by the day. As much as you can go round on your feet in a day is

yours, and the price is one thousand roubles a day."

Pahom was surprised.

"But in a day you can get round a large tract of land," he said.

The Chief laughed.

"It will all be yours!" said he. "But there is one condition: If

you don't return on the same day to the spot whence you started,

your money is lost."

"But how am I to mark the way that I have gone?"

"Why, we shall go to any spot you like, and stay there. You must

start from that spot and make your round, taking a spade with you.

Wherever you think necessary, make a mark. At every turning, dig a

hole and pile up the turf; then afterwards we will go round with a

plough from hole to hole. You may make as large a circuit as you

please, but before the sun sets you must return to the place you

started from. All the land you cover will be yours."

Pahom was delighted. It-was decided to start early next morning.

They talked a while, and after drinking some more kumiss and eating

some more mutton, they had tea again, and then the night came on.

They gave Pahom a feather-bed to sleep on, and the Bashkirs

dispersed for the night, promising to assemble the next morning at

daybreak and ride out before sunrise to the appointed spot.



VII

Pahom lay on the feather-bed, but could not sleep. He kept thinking

about the land.

"What a large tract I will mark off!" thought he. "I can easily go

thirty-five miles in a day. The days are long now, and within a

circuit of thirty-five miles what a lot of land there will be! I

will sell the poorer land, or let it to peasants, but I'll pick out

the best and farm it. I will buy two ox-teams, and hire two more

laborers. About a hundred and fifty acres shall be plough-land, and

I will pasture cattle on the rest."

Pahom lay awake all night, and dozed off only just before dawn.

Hardly were his eyes closed when he had a dream. He thought he was

lying in that same tent, and heard somebody chuckling outside. He

wondered who it could be, and rose and went out, and he saw the

Bashkir Chief sitting in front of the tent holding his side and

rolling about with laughter. Going nearer to the Chief, Pahom

asked: "What are you laughing at?" But he saw that it was no longer

the Chief, but the dealer who had recently stopped at his house and

had told him about the land. Just as Pahom was going to ask, "Have

you been here long?" he saw that it was not the dealer, but the

peasant who had come up from the Volga, long ago, to Pahom's old

home. Then he saw that it was not the peasant either, but the Devil

himself with hoofs and horns, sitting there and chuckling, and

before him lay a man barefoot, prostrate on the ground, with only

trousers and a shirt on. And Pahom dreamt that he looked more

attentively to see what sort of a man it was lying there, and he saw

that the man was dead, and that it was himself! He awoke horror-struck.

"What things one does dream," thought he.

Looking round he saw through the open door that the dawn was breaking.

"It's time to wake them up," thought he. "We ought to be starting."

He got up, roused his man (who was sleeping in his cart), bade him

harness; and went to call the Bashkirs.

"It's time to go to the steppe to measure the land," he said.

The Bashkirs rose and assembled, and the Chief came, too. Then they

began drinking kumiss again, and offered Pahom some tea, but he

would not wait.

"If we are to go, let us go. It is high time," said he.



VIII

The Bashkirs got ready and they all started: some mounted on horses,

and some in carts. Pahom drove in his own small cart with his

servant, and took a spade with him. When they reached the steppe,

the morning red was beginning to kindle. They ascended a hillock

(called by the Bashkirs a shikhan) and dismounting from their carts

and their horses, gathered in one spot. The Chief came up to Pahom

and stretched out his arm towards the plain:

"See," said he, "all this, as far as your eye can reach, is ours.

You may have any part of it you like."

Pahom's eyes glistened: it was all virgin soil, as flat as the palm

of your hand, as black as the seed of a poppy, and in the hollows

different kinds of grasses grew breast high.

The Chief took off his fox-fur cap, placed it on the ground and said:

"This will be the mark. Start from here, and return here again.

All the land you go round shall be yours."

Pahom took out his money and put it on the cap. Then he took off

his outer coat, remaining in his sleeveless under coat. He

unfastened his girdle and tied it tight below his stomach, put a

little bag of bread into the breast of his coat, and tying a flask

of water to his girdle, he drew up the tops of his boots, took the

spade from his man, and stood ready to start. He considered for

some moments which way he had better go--it was tempting everywhere.

"No matter," he concluded, "I will go towards the rising sun."

He turned his face to the east, stretched himself, and waited for

the sun to appear above the rim.

"I must lose no time," he thought, "and it is easier walking while

it is still cool."

The sun's rays had hardly flashed above the horizon, before Pahom,

carrying the spade over his shoulder, went down into the steppe.

Pahom started walking neither slowly nor quickly. After having gone

a thousand yards he stopped, dug a hole and placed pieces of turf

one on another to make it more visible. Then he went on; and now

that he had walked off his stiffness he quickened his pace. After a

while he dug another hole.

Pahom looked back. The hillock could be distinctly seen in the

sunlight, with the people on it, and the glittering tires of the

cartwheels. At a rough guess Pahom concluded that he had walked

three miles. It was growing warmer; he took off his under-coat,

flung it across his shoulder, and went on again. It had grown quite

warm now; he looked at the sun, it was time to think of breakfast.

"The first shift is done, but there are four in a day, and it is too

soon yet to turn. But I will just take off my boots," said he to himself.

He sat down, took off his boots, stuck them into his girdle, and went on.

It was easy walking now.

"I will go on for another three miles," thought he, "and then turn

to the left. The spot is so fine, that it would be a pity to lose

it. The further one goes, the better the land seems."

He went straight on a for a while, and when he looked round, the

hillock was scarcely visible and the people on it looked like black

ants, and he could just see something glistening there in the sun.

"Ah," thought Pahom, "I have gone far enough in this direction, it

is time to turn. Besides I am in a regular sweat, and very thirsty."

He stopped, dug a large hole, and heaped up pieces of turf. Next he

untied his flask, had a drink, and then turned sharply to the left.

He went on and on; the grass was high, and it was very hot.

Pahom began to grow tired: he looked at the sun and saw that it was noon.

"Well," he thought, "I must have a rest."

He sat down, and ate some bread and drank some water; but he did not

lie down, thinking that if he did he might fall asleep. After

sitting a little while, he went on again. At first he walked

easily: the food had strengthened him; but it had become terribly

hot, and he felt sleepy; still he went on, thinking: "An hour to

suffer, a life-time to live."

He went a long way in this direction also, and was about to turn to

the left again, when he perceived a damp hollow: "It would be a pity

to leave that out," he thought. "Flax would do well there." So he

went on past the hollow, and dug a hole on the other side of it

before he turned the corner. Pahom looked towards the hillock. The

heat made the air hazy: it seemed to be quivering, and through the

haze the people on the hillock could scarcely be seen.

"Ah!" thought Pahom, "I have made the sides too long; I must make

this one shorter." And he went along the third side, stepping

faster. He looked at the sun: it was nearly half way to the

horizon, and he had not yet done two miles of the third side of the

square. He was still ten miles from the goal.

"No," he thought, "though it will make my land lopsided, I must

hurry back in a straight line now. I might go too far, and as it is

I have a great deal of land."

So Pahom hurriedly dug a hole, and turned straight towards the hillock.



IX

Pahom went straight towards the hillock, but he now walked with

difficulty. He was done up with the heat, his bare feet were cut

and bruised, and his legs began to fail. He longed to rest, but it

was impossible if he meant to get back before sunset. The sun waits

for no man, and it was sinking lower and lower.

"Oh dear," he thought, "if only I have not blundered trying for too

much! What if I am too late?"

He looked towards the hillock and at the sun. He was still far from

his goal, and the sun was already near the rim. Pahom walked on and

on; it was very hard walking, but he went quicker and quicker. He

pressed on, but was still far from the place. He began running,

threw away his coat, his boots, his flask, and his cap, and kept

only the spade which he used as a support.

"What shall I do," he thought again, "I have grasped too much, and

ruined the whole affair. I can't get there before the sun sets."

And this fear made him still more breathless. Pahom went on

running, his soaking shirt and trousers stuck to him, and his mouth

was parched. His breast was working like a blacksmith's bellows,

his heart was beating like a hammer, and his legs were giving way as

if they did not belong to him. Pahom was seized with terror lest he

should die of the strain.

Though afraid of death, he could not stop. "After having run all

that way they will call me a fool if I stop now," thought he. And

he ran on and on, and drew near and heard the Bashkirs yelling and

shouting to him, and their cries inflamed his heart still more. He

gathered his last strength and ran on.

The sun was close to the rim, and cloaked in mist looked large, and

red as blood. Now, yes now, it was about to set! The sun was quite

low, but he was also quite near his aim. Pahom could already see

the people on the hillock waving their arms to hurry him up. He

could see the fox-fur cap on the ground, and the money on it, and

the Chief sitting on the ground holding his sides. And Pahom

remembered his dream.

"There is plenty of land," thought he, "but will God let me live on

it? I have lost my life, I have lost my life! I shall never reach

that spot!"

Pahom looked at the sun, which had reached the earth: one side of it

had already disappeared. With all his remaining strength he rushed

on, bending his body forward so that his legs could hardly follow

fast enough to keep him from falling. Just as he reached the

hillock it suddenly grew dark. He looked up--the sun had already

set. He gave a cry: "All my labor has been in vain," thought he,

and was about to stop, but he heard the Bashkirs still shouting, and

remembered that though to him, from below, the sun seemed to have

set, they on the hillock could still see it. He took a long breath

and ran up the hillock. It was still light there. He reached the

top and saw the cap. Before it sat the Chief laughing and holding

his sides. Again Pahom remembered his dream, and he uttered a cry:

his legs gave way beneath him, he fell forward and reached the cap

with his hands.

"Ah, what a fine fellow!" exclaimed the Chief. "He has gained

much land!"

Pahom's servant came running up and tried to raise him, but he saw

that blood was flowing from his mouth. Pahom was dead!

The Bashkirs clicked their tongues to show their pity.

His servant picked up the spade and dug a grave long enough for

Pahom to lie in, and buried him in it. Six feet from his head to

his heels was all he needed.



Footnotes:

1. One hundred kopeks make a rouble. The kopek is worth about

half a cent. 2. A non-intoxicating drink usually made from rye-malt and rye-flour. 3. The brick oven in a Russian peasant's hut is usually built so

as to leave a flat top, large enough to lie on, for those who want

to sleep in a warm place. 4. 120 "desyatins." The "desyatina" is properly 2.7 acres; but in

this story round numbers are used. 5. Three roubles per "desyatina." 6. Five "kopeks" for a "desyatina."



Literature Network » Leo Tolstoy » How Much Land Does a Man Need?

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