Daylong halts were sounded ever more frequently to give the exhausted men and beasts a rest. Shevchenko used every halt to draw. He had drawn the rivers Kara Butak and Irghiz with the forts of the same names, and felt that he was gradually regaining precision of draughtsmanship and a feeling for color.
During one such halt, when he had walked far into the steppe to sketch a half-dry nameless stream, Królikiewicz came to see him.
“Hello!” Shevchenko greeted him joyfully. “Sit down, and let’s have a chat while we have the time.”
“That’s just why I was looking for you,” Kloiikiewicz said. “I have to tell you some fantastic news I recently heard from a compatriot from the Orenburg unit. Ho, too, is an exile, but came from my country only two mouths ago. Just imagine: there’s a revolution o
