put to flight by his question. He became angry. He felt the sharp
burning sensation that he knew so well, in his breast; his throat
contracted. He said harshly to Gavrilo:

"You're there; well, remain there! Don't meddle with what doesn't
concern you. You've been brought to row, now row. And if you let your
tongue wag, no good will come of it. Do you understand?"

For one minute, the boat wavered and stopped. The oars stood still in
the foaming water around them, and Gavrilo moved uneasily on his seat.

"Row!"

A fierce oath broke the stillness. Gavrilo bent to the oars. The
boat, as though frightened, leaped ahead rapidly and nervously, noisily
cutting the water.

"Better than that!"

Tchelkache had risen from the helm and, without letting go his oar, he
fixed his cold eyes upon the pale face and trembling lips of Gavrilo.
Sinuous and bending forward, he resembled a cat ready to jump. A
furious grinding of teeth and rattling of bones could be heard.

"Who goes there?"

This imperious demand resounded over the sea.

"The devil! Row, row! No noise! I'll kill you, dog. Row, can't you!
One, two! Dare to cry out! I'll tear you from limb to limb! . . ."