Антон Чехов (Anton Chekhov)The local Police Chief, Ochumelov, dressed in a new overcoat and with a bundle in his hand, walks across the market square.
A ginger haired constable paces after him, carrying a sieve piled high with confiscated gooseberries.
Silence reigns all around.
There is not a soul on the square.
The opened doors of shops and taverns look out gloomily into the open air, like gaping hungry mouths. Not even a beggar is to be seen near them.
"Ah, so you're going to bite are you, you swine! " Ochumelov suddenly hears raised voices.
"Hey lads, don't let her go.
Biting is against the law, it is, it is!
Grab her!
Ah … Ah! "
A dog squeals.
Ochumelov turns to one side and sees a dog emerging from the woodyard of the merchant Pichugin, its head turned back as it leaps on three legs.
Behind it a man dressed in a starched cotton overshirt and unbuttoned waistcoat.
He is chasing the dog, and with his body thrust forward falls on the ground as he grabs it by its hind leg.
Again the squeal of the dog and then the cry
"Grab her! ".
Sleepy faces appear from the shops and soon a crowd, which appears to have grown from the earth, gathers around the yard.
"Seems like some sort of commotion, yer honour! " say the constable.
Ochumelov makes a half turn to the left and heads for the gathering.
By the gate of the yard, he observes, stands the afore-mentioned man in the unbuttoned waistcoat, who, holding his right hand aloft, shows to the crowd a bloodied finger.
On his half-drunk face one may read, almost as if it was imprinted there,
"You wait, I'll get you, you villain! " and even the finger itself has the appearance of a battle ensign.
Ochumelov recognises the man as the goldsmith Khryukin.
In the centre of the crowd, its hind legs spread out and its whole body shaking, sits, on the ground, the villain of the piece ─ a white borzoi puppy with a sharp muzzle and a dark patch on its back.
In its tear stained eyes an expression of anguish and terror.
"Hello, hello, what's up here then? " asks Ochumelov as he forces his way into the crowd.
"What's all this abaht then?
What's the meaning of this finger?
Who was doin' the shoutin'? "
"I was goin' my way peacably, yer honour" ─ Khryukin starts up, coughing into his sleeve,─ "me 'n Mitriy Mitriychem here, about some firewood, when suddenly this animal, without no provocation, is on my finger.