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                       How Much Land Does A Man Need?

                           By Leo Tolstoy (1886)

                   Translated by Louise and Aylmer Maude

                     Distributed by the Tolstoy Library

                 http://users.aol.com/Tolstoy28/tolstoy.htm

                                     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 goodman 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?"

Pakhom, the master of the house, was lying on the top of the stove 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 stove, 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 Pakhom 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.

Pakhom paid up, but grumbled, and going home in a temper, was rough with
his family. All through that summer, Pakhom 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 them 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 Pakhom heard that a neighbour of his was buying fifty acres, and
that the lady had agreed to accept one half in cash and to wait a year for
the other half. Pakhom 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 rubles laid by. They sold a colt and one half
of their bees, hired out one of their sons as a labourer 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, Pakhom 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 Pakhom 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 Pakhom was well-contented, and everything would have been right if the
neighbouring 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. Pakhom turned them
out again and again, and forgave their owners, and for a long time he
forbore to prosecute 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 Pakhom's neighbour began to bear
him a grudge for this, and would now and then let their cattle on to his
land on purpose. One peasant even got into Pakhom's wood at night and cut
down five young lime trees for their bark. Pakhom 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 trees had
been. Pakhom was furious.

"If he had only cut one here and there it would have been bad enough,"
thought Pakhom, "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." So he went to Simon's homestead to
have a look round, 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 retried,
and at the end of it all Simon was acquitted, there being no evidence
against him. Pakhom 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 Pakhom quarreled with the judges and with his neighbour. Threats to burn
his building began to be uttered. So though Pakhom had more land, his place
in the commune was much worse than before.

About this time a rumour got about that many people were moving to new
parts.

"There's no need for me to leave my land," thought Pakhom. "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 Pakhom 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. Pakhom 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.

Pakhom'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 two
shillings an acre as much good freehold land as he wanted.

Having found out all he wished to know, Pakhom 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 Pakhom and his family reached 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
all together, but in different fields) besides the use of the communal
pasture. Pakhom 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, Pakhom 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 quarreled 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. Pakhom 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 Pakhom 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 labour was all lost.

"If it were my own land," thought Pakhom, "I should be independent, and
there would not be all this unpleasantness."

So Pakhom 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. Pakhom bargained and haggled
with him, and at last they settled the price at 1,500 rubles, part in cash
and part to be paid later. They had all but clinched the matter when a
passing dealer happened to stop at Pakhom's one day to get a feed for his
horses. He drank tea with Pakhom 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 rubles. Pakhom
questioned him further, and the tradesman said:

"All one need do is to make friends with the chiefs. I gave away about one
hundred rubles worth of silk robes 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 a
penny an acre." And he showed Pakhom the title-deeds, saying:

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

Pakhom 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 Pakhom, "with my one thousand rubles 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

Pakhom inquired how to get to the place, and as soon as the tradesmen 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 Pakhom, they came out of their tents and gathered round
their visitor. An interpreter was found, and Pakhom told them he had come
about some land. The Bashkirs seemed very glad; they took Pakhom 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 some
tea and kumiss, and had a sheep killed, and gave him mutton to eat. Pakhom
took presents out of his cart and distributed them among the Bashkirs, and
divided the tea amongst them. 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 Pakhom, "is you 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. Pakhom 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 Pakhom 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. Pakhom 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."

Pakhom 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 Pakhom, 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 Pakhom. "I must get a deed to
make it secure, or else they may say, 'It is yours,' and afterwards may
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 Pakhom, "and that you have
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 Pakhom.

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

Pakhom 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 rubles a day."

Pakhom 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 say 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 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."

Pakhom 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 Pakhom a
feather-bed to sleep on, and the Bashkirs dispersed for the night,
promising to assemble the next morning at day-break and ride out before
sunrise to the appointed spot.

                                    VII

Pakhom 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 do
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 labourers. About a hundred and fifty
acres shall be plough-land, and I will pature cattle on the rest."

Pakhom 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 sides and rolling about with laughter. Going nearer to
the chief, Pakhom 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 Pakhom 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 Pakhom's old home. The 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 Pakhom dreamt that he
looked more attentively to see what sort of a man it was that 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 Pakhom 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. Pakhom 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 Pakhom and stretching out his arm towards the
plain;

"See," said he, "all this, as far as your eye can reach, is yours. You may
have any part of it you like."

Pakhom'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."

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

Pakhom 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.

Pakhom looked back. The hillock could be distinctly seen in the sunlight,
with the people on it, and the glittering tyres of the cartwheels. At a
rough guess Pakhom 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. This 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 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 Pakhom, "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.

Pakhom 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.
Pakhom looked towards the hillock. The heat had made the air hazy: it
seemed to be quivering, and through the haze the people on the hillock
could scarcely be seen.

"Ah!" thought Pakhom, "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 lop-sided, 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 Pakhom hurriedly dug a hole, and turned straight towards the hillock.

                                     IX

Pakhom 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.

Pakhom 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 dept 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. Pakhom 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.
Pakhom 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. Pakhom 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 Pakhom remembered his dream.

"There is plenty of land," thought he, "but will God let me life on it? I
have lost my life, I have lost my life! I shall never reach that spot!"

Pakhom 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 labour 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 Pakhom 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, that's a fine fellow!" exclaimed the chief. "He has gained much land!"

Pakhom's servant came running up and tried to raise him, but he saw that
blood was flowing from his mouth. Pakhom was dead!

The Bashkirs clicked their tongues to show their pity.

His servant picked up the spade and dug a grave long enough for Pakhom to
lie in, and buried him in it. Six feet from his head to his heels was all
he needed.