He looked at Nikolay
mistrustfully and skeptically. Nikolay smiled.
"Don't get angry," said the mother jokingly.
Nikolay thoughtfully exclaimed:
"How shall we get the leaflets about Rybin's arrest to the village?"
Ignaty grew attentive.
"I'll speak to Vyesovshchikov to-day."
"Is there a leaflet already?" asked Ignaty.
"Yes."
"Give it to me. I'll take it." Ignaty rubbed his hands at the
suggestion, his eyes flashing. "I know where and how. Let me."
The mother laughed quietly, without looking at him.
"Why, you're tired and afraid, and you said you'd never go there again!"
Ignaty smacked his lips and stroked his curly hair with his broad palm.
"I'm tired; I'll rest; and of course I'm afraid!" His manner was
businesslike and calm. "They beat a man until the blood comes, as
you yourself say--then who wants to be mutilated? But I'll pull
through somehow at night. Never mind! Give me the leaflets; this
evening I'll get on the go." He was silent, thought a while, his
eyebrows working. "I'll go to the forest; I'll hide the literature,
and then I'll notify our fellows: 'Go get it.' That's better. If
I myself should distribute them I might fall into the hands of the
police, and it would be a pity for the leaflets.
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