"Husband, is there danger? Whip up the horses, Kiril!"
"Kiril is drunk and useless, he will not wake," replied the Count; "I will try other means." He took the whip and stood up to belabour the wretched sleeper about the neck, face and shoulders.
Kiril awoke with a roar of pain and drunken rage; he turned in his seat and struck savagely at his master, swearing horrible oaths.
"Sit down and hold the reins, you fool," shouted Maximof. "There is a pack of wolves at our heels."
There was something in the Barin's aspect at this moment that gave the drunken man pause. It was not the thought of the wolves, for he never glanced at them. He ceased to swear and rave and sat down obediently to drive. Five minutes later the fellow was asleep again, the reins dangling. By this time the wolves had grown more daring; several had left the cover of the forest and followed the sledge in the open moonlight, going at a hand-gallop, grey and lank and weird enough to see. There were still two miles to go. A gaunt beast suddenly sprang out at the off horse, causing both animals to shy violently across the road.
Sasha uttered a cry of terror; the Countess caught her husbands arm; Kiril half awoke and joggled the reins.
"The wolves will attack us before we reach home. We are lost, husband," said the Countess.
"Take the reins from Kiril, Sasha," said Maximof, standing up. The boy obeyed, taking the reins from the sleeper's nerveless hands. Then Maximof suddenly caught Kiril by the waist and pulled him backwards. The Count was a large and powerful man, the other was a wisp in his arms. Kiril awoke and struggled. He caught the box-board with his heels, but Maximof kicked them free. Kiril struck at him and cursed, but feeling himself being forced over the side of the sledge he clutched with his hands and held on.
"Husband, what are you doing?--the wolves--the wolves!" shrieked the Countess. But her husband replied laughing that there were many trees, the fool could climb one if he was not too drunk. "Take the butt of the whip and strike his hands," he added, but his wife only shrieked and clung feebly to his arm.
Maximof forced one of the hands away and contrived by a united effort of arms, legs and body to expel the wretched Kiril from the sledge. But the other hand clung desperately for a moment as the man was dragged along. Maximof kicked it free.