tagiously over their common alarm that no one could help joining in.
When they reached the second marsh, which was of considerable size and sure to occupy much time, Levin advised not getting out. But Veslovsky again put in his entreaties. Again, since the marsh was not big enough for three, Levin, like a hospitable host, remained by the teams. As soon as they stopped, Laska darted off to the tussocks. Vasenka Veslovsky was the first to follow the dog. And before Stepan Arkadyevitch reached the wet ground a snipe flew up. Veslovsky missed it, and the bird flew over into an unmown meadow. But this snipe was predestined to be Veslovsky's. Krak again pointed it, and Veslovsky killed it and returned to the teams.
"Now you go, and I will stay by the horses," said he.
The huntsman's fever had by this time taken possession of Levin. He turned the reins over to Veslovsky and went into the swamp. Laska, who had been for some time pitifully whining and complaining at the inequality of fate, darted toward the tussock-filled bog which Levin knew so well, and to which Krak had not yet found his way.
"Why don't you hold her back?" cried Stepan Arkadyevitch.
"She won't scare them away," replied Levin, delighting in his dog and following after her.
As Laska went forward, the nearer she came to the tussocks the greater grew her gravity. A little marsh bird only for a second distracted her attention. She made one sweep around the tussocks, then began a second, but suddenly trembled and stood stock still.
"Come, Stiva, come," cried Levin, feeling how his heart was beginning to throb, and how, suddenly as if some bolt had slipped in his ears, all sounds, losing their sense of proportion, disconnectedly but distinctly began to come to him. He heard Stepan Arkadyevitch's steps, distinguishing them from the distant stamping of horses, he heard the crunching sound of a corner of a tussock torn away by the roots, and he could distinguish above
