He
thought it was some one after the nuts which secure the rails. He
watched, and the man got up, holding a crow-bar in his hand. He had
loosened a rail, so that it would move to one side. A mist swam before
Semyon's eyes; he wanted to cry out, but could not. It was Vasily!
Semyon scrambled up the bank, as Vasily with crow-bar and wrench slid
headlong down the other side.
"Vasily Stepanych! My dear friend, come back! Give me the crow-bar. We
will put the rail back; no one will know. Come back! Save your soul
from sin!"
Vasily did not look back, but disappeared into the woods.
Semyon stood before the rail which had been torn up. He threw down his
bundle of sticks. A train was due; not a freight, but a
passenger-train. And he had nothing with which to stop it, no flag. He
could not replace the rail and could not drive in the spikes with his
bare hands. It was necessary to run, absolutely necessary to run to
the hut for some tools. "God help me!" he murmured.
Semyon started running towards his hut. He was out of breath, but
still ran, falling every now and then. He had cleared the forest; he
was only a few hundred feet from his hut, not more, when he heard the
distant hooter of the factory sound--six o'clock! In two minutes' time
No.
Pages:
223
224
225
226
227
228
229
230
231
232
233
234
235
236
237
238
239
240
241
242
243
244
245
246
247