skins of which were worth to him at least one
hundred and fifty roubles.

As we approached the hut we found it of
larger dimensions than we had expected, and
the palisade seemed to take in a larger
circumference than one hut required. We shouted,
but no one answered; all was as still and quiet
as if the place were uninhabited. On our entering
the door through the palisade, it closed with
a bang, and we found ourselves in a small enclosure
with a gateway opposite, leading to the
back premises; but it was made fast. After
thundering at it for a minute or two, a small
door in the gateway opened, and there emerged
cautiously, the figure of a man rubbing his eyes
and staring through his hair. He reminded me
of the blind bear. His hair, like a great mass
of tangled tow, was matted over his head and
face; he wore a coarse grey ragged overcoat
over a grey cotton or sacking shirt and trousers,
and long felt boots completed his costume. He
made many excuses, and asked pardon many
times for keeping us waiting, but seemed to be
in no hurry to admit us until we told him that
a pack of wolves might be expected, and that
our horses and conveyances must be put in a
place of safety. The information acted on him
like a galvanic shock, and he was off into the
house with a spring, through a side-door inside
the gateway. We followed, stooping all the
time, and were in the house. It was a
man-kennel, twenty or thirty feet square, a great
stove in the centre, dogs about a score lying on
the floor, and men snoring on the top of the
pack. The heat was suffocating, the stench was
poisonous. Timofey soon roused the sleepers,
pulling them off their perch by the legs, pouring
water over their heads, cuffing the men and
kicking the dogs. "Wolves! wolves! you
pigs, and you all sleeping! Be quiet, dogs.
No barking. Evan, take the barons' horses and
dogs round by the back entrance, to the shed.
Quick! Andrea, stand by the big gate, and be
ready to shut it after Mattvic gets through.
Put the dogs in the third division, and get out
the guns! Ah, thank God and these barons
for bringing us the wolves!"

We had no intention of being cooped up in
the hut while the fray went on, and therefore
took our station beside the man at the gateway,
which now stood wide open for the admission of
Mattvic and his little horse. In a short time
all was quiet, and every necessary preparation
made. Then came the howling of wolves, and
the screaming as of a pig, the gallop of a horse
over the hard crisp snow, the rush of many small
feet. The outer door in the palisade was dashed
open, and Mattvic, followed in half a minute by
the whole pack, rushed in. The half-minute
was just sufficient to enable Mattvic to vanish
through the outer door into the trap. Then, as
the last pressure on the door was removed, it
closed with a loud sharp sound, and some five-
and-twenty wolves were snared in a space not
larger than twelve feet by twenty. We did not
at first close the inner gateway, but, levelling
our pieces at the mass of wolves now huddling
themselves up in a corner, poured in two volleys
in rapid succession, then closed the gate, and
reloaded for another charge. The change from
the air of ferocious savage daring which the
wolves had displayed in pursuit of a single
horseman, to abject terror when they found
themselves caught in the narrow trap, was
instantaneous. They were like sheep in a pen,
crushing up in a corner, riding on the top
of one another, lying down on their bellies,
crouching and shivering with fear. It is not
necessary to describe the scene of mere slaughter.
Two staves were chopped out of the gateway,
that we might fire through. The drop panels
were opened, and two or three were admitted at
a time to the next division; there, dogs were
let in on them through the adjoining trap, or
they were killed by men with great bars of
wood or axes, and at length when only six or
seven remained, three of the men went in
amongst them, and with perfect safety
despatched them. They say that a worm will
turn on the heel that treads on it, but wolves
caught in a trap like this from which, there
is no escape, have less courage than a worm.
They crouch, shiver, and die, as I saw, without
one effort at self-defence, or one snap of
retaliation.

Timofey's hut was not only a wolf-trap, but
a farm-house too: it had a large shed attached,
in which a few cows roamed loose during
the day, and at night were put into a byre
or stable. Timofey did not clean out this
byre once a day, like a good modern farmer:
he only spread a little straw over the dung
every morning, and allowed it to accumulate
until the month of June, when the cowhouse
was emptied every year. After this "mucking
of Timofey's byre," you had to descend a
few feet if you desired to enter it, but before
the "mucking" at the end of the year's
accumulations, you had to ascend a few feet. In
the one case you looked down on the cows, in the
other you looked up at the cows. In fine, this
was Timofey's manure depot. It was the same
with his stables. He told me that the horses
accumulated so much, that he had to slope a
path through, by which they might get in
at the doors and climb up the slope. In the
shed were lying two implements which
attracted my attention; the first was composed
of birch-trees cut down through the centre, with
the branches chopped off within a foot of the
trees. Half a dozen of these timbers, about
seven feet long, were tied together with twigs of
trees, the flat side up, and the prongs of the
branches down. Put two rough poles for shafts
into this contrivance, and the Russian peasant's
harrow is complete; price, nothing. Timofey
told me that it did very well for his light
sandy land, and that if he found it rather light
sometimes, he put a heavy stone on it. The
other instrument was a plough having two
turned-up prongs like Dutch skates ten inches
apart, set in a rough wooden frame: betwixt
them, a projecting movable scoop for turning
over the ground. This scoop had to be reversed