Krapin pulled back his sleeve and showed the dryly healing traces of the fox’s jaws.
“So you should figure out how best to do your work,” said Krapin, finally turning to Afanasiev and giving him the popgun.
“Maybe I can toss the fox a fish, she’ll open her mouth and then I’ll shoot her in the mouth: bang!” Afanasiev offered, completely seriously.
“That’s possible,” answered Krapin no less seriously. “But for a single lost capsule, the worker receives one blow on the back with a bludgeon. I brought my bludgeon with me, didn’t forget it… And for a second lost capsule, the worker departs to the aforementioned Sekirka, to sit on a pole and repent of his ways belatedly.”
Afanasiev quickly folded his face into an understanding expression, having folded one eyebrow under another and sorrowful
