a wolf ran out of the forest into a village—not to pay a visit, but to save its life; for it trembled for its skin.

the huntsmen and a pack of hounds were after it. it would fain have rushed in through the first gateway; but there was this unfortunate circumstance against the scheme that all the gateways were closed.

the wolf sees a cat on a partition fence, and says pleadingly, "vaska, my friend, tell me quickly, which of the moujiks here is the kindest, so that i may hide myself from my evil foes? listen to the cry of the dogs and the terrible sound of the horns? all that noise is actually made in chase of me!"

"go quickly, and ask stefan," says vaska, the cat; "he is a very kind man."

"quite true; only i have torn the skin off one of his sheep."

"well, then, you can try demian."

"i'm afraid he's angry with me, too; i carried off one of his kids."

"run over there, then; trofim lives there."

"trofim! i should be afraid of even meeting him. ever since the spring he has been threatening me about a lamb."

"dear me, that's bad! but perhaps klim will protect you."

"oh, vaska, i have killed one of his calves."

"what do i hear, friend? you've quarrelled with all the village," cried vaska to the wolf. "what sort of protection can you hope for here? no, no; our moujiks are not so destitute of sense as to be willing to save you to their own hurt. and, really, you have only yourself to blame. what you have sown, that you must now reap."