Read Lev Nikolaevich Tolstoy Bulka online. Bulka - Leo Tolstoy

Bulka (Officer's Tales)
Lev Nikolayevich Tolstoy

Tolstoy Lev Nikolaevich

Bulka (Officer's Tales)

Lev Nikolayevich Tolstoy

(Officer's stories)

I had a muzzle. Her name was Bulka. She was all black, only the tips of her front paws were white.

In all muzzles, the lower jaw is longer than the upper, and the upper teeth extend beyond the lower ones; but Bulka's lower jaw protruded so far forward that a finger could be placed between the lower and upper teeth. Bulka's face was broad, his eyes were large, black and shining; and white teeth and fangs always stuck out. He looked like an arap. Bulka was quiet and did not bite, but he was very strong and tenacious. When he used to cling to something, he would grit his teeth and hang like a rag, and he, like a tick, could not be torn off in any way.

Once they let him attack a bear, and he grabbed the bear's ear and hung like a leech. The bear beat him with his paws, pressed him to himself, threw him from side to side, but could not tear him off and fell on his head to crush Bulka; but Bulka kept on him until they poured cold water on him.

I adopted him as a puppy and fed him myself. When I went to serve in the Caucasus, I did not want to take him and left him quietly, and ordered him to be locked up. At the first station, I already wanted to sit on another cross-beam [A cross-beam is a carriage drawn by horses that changed at post stations; traveled in Russia before the construction of railways], when he suddenly saw that something black and shiny was rolling along the road. It was Bulka in his copper collar. He flew at full speed to the station. He rushed towards me, licked my hand and stretched out in the shade under the cart.

His tongue stuck out to the palm of his hand. He then pulled it back, swallowing saliva, then again stuck it out on a whole palm. He was in a hurry, did not keep up with breathing, his sides were jumping. He turned from side to side and tapped his tail on the ground.

I later found out that after me he broke through the frame and jumped out of the window and directly, in my wake, galloped along the road and galloped about twenty versts in the heat.

BULKA AND BOAR

In the Caucasus, in the forests where wild boars live, there are many delicious fruits: wild grapes, cones, apples, pears, blackberries, acorns, blackthorn. And when all these fruits ripen and are touched by frost, the boars eat up and grow fat.

At that time, the boar is so fat that it can not run under the dogs for a long time. When he is chased for two hours, he hides in a thicket and stops. Then the hunters run to the place where he is standing and shoot. By the barking of dogs, you can know whether the boar has stopped or is running. If he runs, then the dogs bark with a squeal, as if they were being beaten; and if he is standing, then they bark, as if at a person, and howl.

During this hunt, I ran for a long time through the forest, but not once did I manage to cross the path of a wild boar. Finally, I heard the long-drawn-out barking and howling of the hounds and ran to that place. I was already close to the boar. I've already heard more crackling noises. It was a boar tossing and turning with dogs. But it was heard by barking that they did not take him, but only circled around. Suddenly I heard something rustling behind me, and I saw Bulka. He apparently lost the hounds in the forest and got confused, and now he heard the barking and, just like me, that was in the spirit, rolled in that direction. He ran through the clearing, along the tall grass, and all I could see from him was his black head and bitten tongue in his white teeth. I called out to him, but he did not look back, overtook me and disappeared into the thicket. I ran after him, but the farther I went, the forest became more and more often. The knots knocked off my hat, hit me in the face, the needles of the blackthorn clung to my dress. I was already close to barking, but I couldn't see anything.

Suddenly I heard the dogs barking louder; something crackled violently, and the boar began to puff and wheeze. I thought that now Bulka got to him and was messing with him. With the last of my strength, I ran through the thicket to that place.

In the most remote thicket I saw a motley hound. She barked and howled in one place, and something blackened and fussed about three steps away from her.

When I moved closer, I examined the boar and heard that Bulka squealed piercingly. The boar grunted and poked at the hound, the hound tucked its tail and jumped back. I could see the side of the boar and his head. I aimed to the side and fired. I saw that it hit. The boar grunted and crackled away from me more often. The dogs squealed and barked after him, and more often I rushed after them. Suddenly, almost under my feet, I saw and heard something. It was Bulka. He lay on his side and squealed. There was a pool of blood underneath. I thought: the dog is gone; but now I was not up to it, I was breaking further.

Soon I saw a boar. The dogs grabbed him from behind, and he turned first to one side, then to the other. When the boar saw me, he leaned towards me. Another time I fired almost at point-blank range, so that the bristles on the boar caught fire, and the boar grunted, staggered, and slammed his whole carcass heavily to the ground.

When I approached, the boar was already dead, and only here and there it was swollen and twitching. But the dogs, bristling, some tore at his belly and legs, while others lapped up the blood from the wound.

Then I remembered Bulka and went to look for him. He crawled towards me and groaned. I went up to him, sat down and looked at his wound. His stomach was torn open, and a whole lump of intestines from his stomach dragged along the dry leaves. When the comrades approached me, we set Bulka's intestines and sewed up his stomach. While they sewed up the stomach and pierced the skin, he kept licking my hands.

The boar was tied to the horse's tail to be taken out of the forest, and Bulka was put on the horse and so they brought him home. Bulka was ill for six weeks and recovered.

MILTON AND BULKA

I got myself a setter dog for the pheasants. The dog's name was Milton; she was tall, thin, speckled in grey, with long frills [Brily, thick, drooping lips in a dog] and ears, and very strong and intelligent. They did not squabble with Bulka. Not a single dog has ever snapped at Bulka. He would only show his teeth, and the dogs would curl their tails and walk away. Once I went with Milton for pheasants. Suddenly Bulka ran after me into the forest. I wanted to drive him away, but I couldn't. And it was a long way to go home to take him away. I thought that he would not interfere with me, and went on; but as soon as Milton sensed a pheasant in the grass and began to search, Bulka rushed forward and began to poke his head in all directions. He tried before Milton to raise the pheasant. He heard something like that in the grass, jumped, twirled; but his instincts are bad, and he could not find a trace alone, but looked at Milton and ran where Milton was going. As soon as Milton sets off on the trail, Bulka will run ahead. I recalled Bulka, beat him, but could not do anything with him. As soon as Milton began to search, he rushed forward and interfered with him. I wanted to go home already, because I thought that my hunting was spoiled, but Milton figured out better than me how to deceive Bulka. This is what he did: as soon as Bulka runs ahead of him, Milton will leave a trace, turn in the other direction and pretend that he is looking. Bulka will rush to where Milton pointed, and Milton will look back at me, wag his tail and follow the real trail again. Bulka again runs to Milton, runs ahead, and again Milton purposely takes ten steps to the side, deceives Bulka and again leads me straight. So all the hunting he deceived Bulka and did not let him ruin things.

BULKA AND THE WOLF

When I left the Caucasus, there was still a war there, and at night it was dangerous to travel without an escort [Convoy - here: security].

I wanted to leave as early as possible in the morning and for this I did not go to bed.

My friend came to see me off, and we sat all evening and night on the street of the village in front of my hut.

It was a month-long night with fog, and it was so light that one could read, although the moon could not be seen.

In the middle of the night we suddenly heard a pig squeaking in the yard across the street. One of us shouted:

It's the wolf strangling the pig!

I ran to my hut, grabbed a loaded gun and ran out into the street. Everyone stood at the gate of the yard where the pig was squeaking, and shouted to me: "Here!"

Milton rushed after me - it’s true, he thought that I was going hunting with a gun, and Bulka raised his short ears and darted from side to side, as if asking whom he was told to grab onto. When I ran up to the wattle fence, I saw that from the other side of the yard a beast runs straight towards me. It was a wolf. He ran up to the wattle fence and jumped on it. I moved away from him and prepared my gun. As soon as the wolf jumped off the wattle fence to my side, I kissed almost point-blank and pulled the trigger; but the gun made a "chick" and did not fire. The wolf did not stop and ran across the street. Milton and Bulka set off after him. Milton was close to the wolf, but, apparently, was afraid to grab him; feet, could not keep up. We ran as fast as we could behind the wolf, but both the wolf and the dogs disappeared from our sight. Only at the ditch at the corner of the village we heard barking, screeching and saw through the monthly fog that dust had risen and that the dogs were fussing wolf. When we ran to the ditch, the wolf was gone, and both dogs came towards us with their tails up and angry faces. Bulka growled and pushed me with his head - he obviously wanted to tell something, but did not know how.

We examined the dogs and found that Bulka had a small wound on his head. He apparently caught up with the wolf in front of the ditch, but did not manage to capture it, and the wolf snapped and ran away. The wound was small, so there was nothing dangerous.

We went back to the hut, sat and talked about what had happened. I was annoyed that my gun had cut off, and kept thinking about how the wolf would have remained right there, in place, if it had fired. My friend was surprised that the wolf could climb into the yard. The old Cossack said that there was nothing surprising here, that it was not a wolf, but that it was a witch and that she had bewitched my gun. So we sat and talked. Suddenly the dogs rushed, and we saw in the middle of the street in front of us again the same wolf; but this time he ran so fast at our cry that the dogs no longer caught up with him.

After that, the old Cossack was already completely convinced that it was not a wolf, but a witch; and I thought that it might not have been a rabid wolf, because I had never seen or heard that a wolf, after being driven away, returned again to the people.

Just in case, I sprinkled Bulke on the wound with gunpowder and lit it. The gunpowder flared up and burned the sore spot.

I burned the wound with gunpowder in order to burn out the furious saliva, if it had not yet had time to enter the blood. If saliva got into it and entered the blood, then I knew that it would spread through the blood throughout the body, and then it would no longer be possible to cure it.

WHAT HAPPENED TO BULKA IN PYATIGORSK

From the village I did not go straight to Russia, but first to Pyatigorsk and stayed there for two months. I gave Milton to a Cossack hunter, and I took Bulka with me to Pyatigorsk.

Pyatigorsk is so called because it stands on Mount Beshtau. And Besh in Tatar means five, tau - mountain. Hot sulfuric water flows from this mountain. This water is hot as boiling water, and above the place where the water comes from the mountain, there is always steam, like over a samovar. The whole place where the city stands is very cheerful. Hot springs flow from the mountains, the river Podkumok flows under the mountain. There are forests along the mountain, fields all around, and in the distance the great Caucasus Mountains are always visible. On these mountains the snow never melts and they are always white as sugar. One big mountain Elbrus, like a sugar white head, is visible from everywhere when the weather is clear. People come to hot springs for treatment, and gazebos, sheds are made over the springs, gardens and paths are laid out all around. Music plays in the morning, and people drink water or bathe and walk.

The city itself stands on a mountain, and under the mountain there is a settlement. I lived in this settlement in a small house. The house stood in the yard, and in front of the windows there was a garden, and in the garden stood the master's bees - not in logs, as in Russia, but in round wattles. The bees there are so peaceful that I always sat in the morning with Bulka in this garden between the beehives.

Bulka walked among the hives, was surprised at the bees, sniffed, listened to how they buzzed, but walked around them so carefully that he did not interfere with them, and they did not touch him.

One morning I came home from the water and sat down to drink coffee in the front garden. Bulka began scratching behind his ears and rattling his collar. The noise disturbed the bees, and I removed the collar from Bulka. A little later, I heard a strange and terrible noise from the city from the mountain. Dogs barked, howled, squealed, people screamed, and this noise descended from the mountain and came closer and closer to our settlement. Bulka stopped scratching, put his broad head with white teeth between his front white paws, put his tongue in the way it needed to, and lay quietly beside me. When he heard the noise, he seemed to understand what it was, pricked up his ears, bared his teeth, jumped up and began to growl. The noise was getting closer. Like dogs from all over the city howled, squealed and barked. I went out to the gate to look, and the mistress of my house came up too. I asked:

What it is?

She said:

These are the convicts from the prison who go to beat the dogs. Many dogs were divorced, and the city authorities ordered to beat all the dogs in the city.

How, and Bulka will be killed if he gets caught?

No, in collars they are not ordered to beat.

At the same time, as I said, the convicts approached our yard.

Soldiers walked in front, four convicts in chains behind. Two of the convicts had long iron hooks in their hands and two had clubs. In front of our gates, one convict hooked a yard dog with a hook, pulled it to the middle of the street, and another convict began to beat it with a club. The little dog squealed terribly, and the convicts shouted something and laughed. The hooker with the hook turned the little dog over, and when he saw that she was dead, he took out the hook and began to look around to see if there was another dog.

At this time, Bulka headlong, as he threw himself at the bear, rushed at this convict. I remembered that he was without a collar and shouted:

Bulka, back! - and shouted to the convicts so that they would not beat Bulka.

But the prisoner saw Bulka, laughed, and deftly hit Bulka with his hook and caught him by the thigh. Bulka rushed away, but the convict pulled him towards him and shouted to another:

Another waved a club, and Bulka would have been killed, but he rushed, the skin broke on his thigh, and, tail between his legs, with a red wound on his leg, he flew headlong into the gate, into the house, and huddled under my bed.

I had a face ... Her name was Bulka. She was all black, only the tips of her front paws were white.
In all muzzles, the lower jaw is longer than the upper and the upper teeth extend beyond the lower ones; but Bulka's lower jaw protruded so far forward that a finger could be placed between the lower and upper teeth. Bulka's face was broad; the eyes are large, black and shiny; and white teeth and fangs always stuck out. He looked like an arap. Bulka was quiet and did not bite, but he was very strong and tenacious. When he used to cling to something, he would grit his teeth and hang like a rag, and he, like a tick, could not be torn off in any way.
Once they let him attack a bear, and he grabbed the bear's ear and hung like a leech. The bear beat him with his paws, pressed him to himself, threw him from side to side, but could not tear him off and fell on his head to crush Bulka; but Bulka kept on him until they poured cold water on him.
I adopted him as a puppy and fed him myself. When I went to serve in the Caucasus, I did not want to take him and left him quietly, and ordered him to be locked up. At the first station, I was about to sit down on another sling, when I suddenly saw that something black and shiny was rolling along the road. It was Bulka in his copper collar. He flew at full speed to the station. He rushed towards me, licked my hand and stretched out in the shade under the cart. His tongue stuck out to the palm of his hand. He then pulled it back, swallowing saliva, then again stuck it out on a whole palm. He was in a hurry, did not keep up with breathing, his sides were jumping. He turned from side to side and tapped his tail on the ground.
I later found out that after me he broke through the frame and jumped out of the window and directly, in my wake, galloped along the road and galloped about twenty versts in the heat.

Bulka and boar

Once in the Caucasus we went hunting for wild boars, and Bulka came running with me. As soon as the hounds drove off, Bulka rushed to their voice and disappeared into the forest. It was in the month of November: wild boars and pigs then are very fat.
In the Caucasus, in the forests where wild boars live, there are many delicious fruits: wild grapes, cones, apples, pears, blackberries, acorns, blackthorn. And when all these fruits ripen and are touched by frost, the boars eat off and grow fat.
At that time, the boar is so fat that it can not run under the dogs for long. When he is chased for two hours, he hides in a thicket and stops. Then the hunters run to the place where he is standing and shoot. By the barking of dogs, you can know whether the boar has stopped or is running. If he runs, then the dogs bark with a squeal, as if they were being beaten; and if he is standing, then they bark, as if at a person, and howl.
During this hunt, I ran for a long time through the forest, but not once did I manage to cross the path of a wild boar. Finally, I heard the long-drawn-out barking and howling of the hounds and ran to that place. I was already close to the boar. I've already heard more crackling noises. It was a boar tossing and turning with dogs. But it was heard by barking that they did not take him, but only circled around. Suddenly I heard something rustling behind me and saw Bulka. He apparently lost the hounds in the forest and got confused, and now he heard their barking and, just like me, that was the spirit rolled in that direction. He ran through the clearing, along the tall grass, and all I could see from him was his black head and bitten tongue in his white teeth. I called out to him, but he did not look back, overtook me and disappeared into the thicket. I ran after him, but the farther I went, the forest became more and more often. The knots knocked off my hat, hit me in the face, the needles of the blackthorn clung to my dress. I was already close to barking, but I couldn't see anything.
Suddenly I heard that the dogs barked louder, something crackled violently, and the boar began to puff and wheeze. I thought that now Bulka got to him and was messing with him. With the last of my strength, I ran through the thicket to that place. In the most remote thicket I saw a motley hound. She barked and howled in one place, and something blackened and fussed about three steps away from her.
When I moved closer, I examined the boar and heard that Bulka squealed piercingly. The boar grunted and poked at the hound - the hound tucked its tail and jumped away. I could see the side of the boar and his head. I aimed to the side and fired. I saw that it hit. The boar grunted and crackled away from me more often. The dogs squealed and barked after him, and more often I rushed after them. Suddenly, almost under my feet, I saw and heard something. It was Bulka. He lay on his side and squealed. There was a pool of blood underneath. I thought, "The dog is missing"; but now I was not up to it, I was breaking further. Soon I saw a boar. The dogs grabbed him from behind, and he turned first to one side, then to the other. When the boar saw me, he leaned towards me. I fired another time, almost at point-blank range, so that the bristles on the boar caught fire, and the boar wheezed, staggered, and slammed his whole carcass heavily to the ground.
When I approached, the boar was already dead, and only here and there it was swollen and twitching. But the dogs, bristling, some tore at his belly and legs, while others lapped up the blood from the wound.
Then I remembered Bulka and went to look for him. He crawled towards me and groaned. I went up to him, sat down and looked at his wound. His stomach was torn open, and a whole lump of intestines from his stomach dragged along the dry leaves. When the comrades approached me, we set Bulka's intestines and sewed up his stomach. While they sewed up the stomach and pierced the skin, he kept licking my hands.
The boar was tied to the horse's tail to be taken out of the forest, and Bulka was put on the horse and so they brought him home.
Bulka was ill for six weeks and recovered.

Pheasants

In the Caucasus, wild chickens are called pheasants. There are so many of them that they are cheaper than domestic chicken. Pheasants are hunted with a filly, from a decoy and from under a dog.
This is how they hunt with a filly: they take canvas, stretch it over a frame, make a crossbar in the middle of the frame, and make a hole in the canvas. This canvas frame is called a filly. With this filly and with a gun at dawn they go out into the forest. They carry the filly in front of them and look out for pheasants in the gap. Pheasants feed at dawn in the clearings; sometimes a whole brood - a hen with chickens, sometimes a rooster with a hen, sometimes several roosters together.
Pheasants do not see a person and are not afraid of canvas and let them get close to them. Then the hunter puts down the filly, sticks the gun out of the hole and shoots at will.
This is how they hunt from a decoy: they let a yard dog into the forest and follow it. When the dog finds the pheasant, it will rush after it.
The pheasant will fly up the tree, and then the little dog will begin to bark at him. The hunter approaches the barking and shoots the pheasant in the tree. This hunt would be easy if the pheasant perched on a tree in a clean place and sat right on the tree - so that it could be seen. But pheasants always sit on thick trees, in the thicket, and when they see the hunter, they hide in the knots. And it can be difficult to climb into the thicket to the tree where the pheasant sits, and it is difficult to see it. When a dog alone barks at a pheasant, he is not afraid of her, sits on a branch and still cocks at her and flaps her wings. But as soon as he sees a person, he immediately stretches out along a branch, so that only an accustomed hunter will distinguish him, and an unusual one will stand nearby and see nothing.
When the Cossacks sneak up on the pheasants, they pull their hats over their faces and do not look up, because the pheasant is afraid of a man with a gun, and most of all he is afraid of his eyes.
This is how they hunt from under a dog: they take a pointing dog and follow it through the forest. The dog will sense by instinct where the pheasants walked and fed at dawn, and will begin to make out their tracks. And no matter how much the pheasants mess up, a good dog will always find the last trace, the exit from the place where they fed. The further the dog goes on the trail, the stronger it will smell, and so it will reach the place where a pheasant sits in the grass during the day or walks. When she comes close, then it will seem to her that the pheasant is already there, right in front of her, and she will keep walking more carefully so as not to frighten him away, and will stop to immediately jump and catch him. When the dog comes very close, then the pheasant flies out, and the hunter shoots.

Milton and Bulka

I got myself a setter dog for the pheasants.
This dog was called Milton: it was tall, thin, speckled in grey, with long beaks and ears, and very strong and intelligent.
They did not squabble with Bulka. Not a single dog has ever snapped at Bulka. He would only show his teeth, and the dogs would curl their tails and walk away.
Once I went with Milton for pheasants. Suddenly Bulka ran after me into the forest. I wanted to drive him away, but I couldn't. And it was a long way to go home to take him away. I thought that he would not interfere with me, and went on; but as soon as Milton sensed a pheasant in the grass and began to search, Bulka rushed forward and began to poke his head in all directions. He tried before Milton to raise the pheasant. He heard something like that in the grass, jumped, twirled; but his instincts are bad, and he could not find a trace alone, but looked at Milton and ran where Milton was going. As soon as Milton sets off on the trail, Bulka will run ahead. I recalled Bulka, beat him, but could not do anything with him. As soon as Milton began to search, he rushed forward and interfered with him. I wanted to go home already, because I thought that my hunting was spoiled, but Milton figured out better than me how to deceive Bulka. This is what he did: as soon as Bulka runs ahead of him, Milton will leave a trace, turn in the other direction and pretend that he is looking. Bulka will rush to where Milton pointed, and Milton will look back at me, wag his tail and follow the real trail again. Bulka again runs to Milton, runs ahead, and again Milton purposely takes ten steps to the side, deceives Bulka and again leads me straight. So all the hunting he deceived Bulka and did not let him ruin the case.

Turtle

Once I went hunting with Milton. Near the forest, he began to search, stretched out his tail, raised his ears and began to sniff. I prepared my gun and followed him. I thought he was looking for a partridge, a pheasant, or a hare. But Milton did not go into the forest, but into the field. I followed him and looked ahead. Suddenly I saw what he was looking for. In front of him ran a small turtle, the size of a hat. A naked dark gray head on a long neck was stretched out like a pestle; the turtle moved widely with its bare paws, and its back was all covered with bark.
When she saw the dog, she hid her legs and head and sank down on the grass so that only one shell was visible. Milton grabbed it and began to gnaw, but could not bite through it, because the turtle has the same shell on its belly as on its back. Only in front, behind and on the sides there are holes where she passes her head, legs and tail.
I took the tortoise from Milton and looked at how its back is painted, and what kind of shell, and how it hides there. When you hold it in your hands and look under the shell, then only inside, as in a basement, you can see something black and alive.
I threw the turtle on the grass and went on, but Milton did not want to leave it, but carried it in his teeth behind me. Suddenly Milton yelped and let her go. The turtle in his mouth released a paw and scratched his mouth. He was so angry with her for this that he began to bark and grabbed her again and carried her after me. I again ordered to quit, but Milton did not listen to me. Then I took the turtle from him and threw it away. But he didn't leave her. He began to hurry with his paws to dig a hole near her. And when he dug a hole, he filled the tortoise into the hole with his paws and covered it with earth.
Turtles live both on land and in water, like snakes and frogs. They hatch their children with eggs, and they lay the eggs on the ground, and do not incubate them, but the eggs themselves, like fish caviar, burst - and turtles hatch. Turtles are small, no more than a saucer, and large, three arshins in length and weighing twenty pounds. Large turtles live in the seas.
One turtle lays hundreds of eggs in the spring. The shell of a turtle is its ribs. Only in humans and other animals the ribs are each separately, and in the turtle the ribs are fused into a shell. The main thing is that all animals have ribs inside, under the meat, while a turtle has ribs on top, and meat under them.

Bulka and the wolf

When I left the Caucasus, there was still a war there, and at night it was dangerous to travel without an escort.
I wanted to leave as early as possible in the morning and for this I did not go to bed.
My friend came to see me off, and we sat all evening and night on the street of the village in front of my hut.
It was a month-long night with fog, and it was so light that one could read, although the moon could not be seen.
In the middle of the night we suddenly heard a pig squeaking in the yard across the street. One of us shouted:
- It's a wolf strangling a pig!
I ran to my hut, grabbed a loaded gun and ran out into the street. Everyone stood at the gate of the yard where the pig squeaked and shouted to me:
- Here!
Milton rushed after me - he probably thought that I was going hunting with a gun - and Bulka raised his short ears and darted from side to side, as if asking whom he was told to grab onto.

When I ran up to the wattle fence, I saw that from the other side of the yard, straight towards me, a beast was running. It was a wolf. He ran up to the wattle fence and jumped on it. I moved away from him and prepared my gun. As soon as the wolf jumped off the wattle fence to my side, I kissed almost point-blank and pulled the trigger; but the gun made a "chick" and did not fire. The wolf did not stop and ran across the street. Milton and Bulka set off after him. Milton was close to the wolf, but apparently he was afraid to seize it, and Bulka, no matter how hasty on his short legs, could not keep up. We ran as fast as we could, after the wolf, but both the wolf and the dogs disappeared from our sight. Only at the ditch, at the corner of the village, did we hear barking, squealing, and saw through the moon fog that dust had risen, and that the dogs were fussing with the wolf.
When we ran to the ditch, the wolf was gone, and both dogs returned to us with their tails up and angry faces. Bulka growled and pushed me with his head - he obviously wanted to tell something, but did not know how.
We examined the dogs and found that Bulka had a small wound on his head. He apparently caught up with the wolf in front of the ditch, but did not manage to capture it, and the wolf snapped and ran away. The wound was small, so there was nothing dangerous.
We went back to the hut, sat and talked about what had happened. I was annoyed that my gun had cut off, and kept thinking about how the wolf would have remained right there if it had fired. My friend wondered how the wolf could climb into the yard. The old Cossack said that there was nothing surprising here, that it was not a wolf, that it was a witch and that she had bewitched my gun. So we sat and talked. Suddenly the dogs rushed, and we saw in the middle of the street, in front of us, again the same wolf; but this time he ran so fast at our cry that the dogs no longer caught up with him.
After that, the old Cossack was already completely convinced that it was not a wolf, but a witch; and I thought that it might not have been a rabid wolf, because I had never seen or heard that a wolf, after being driven away, returned again to the people.
Just in case, I sprinkled Bulke on the wound with gunpowder and lit it. The gunpowder flared up and burned the sore spot.
I burned the wound with gunpowder in order to burn out the furious saliva, if it had not yet had time to enter the blood. If saliva got in and entered the bloodstream, then I knew that it would spread through the blood throughout the body, and then it would no longer be possible to cure it.

What happened to Bulka in Pyatigorsk

From the village I went straight to Russia, and first to Pyatigorsk, and stayed there for two months. I gave Milton to a Cossack hunter, and I took Bulka with me to Pyatigorsk.
Pyatigorsk is so called because it stands on Mount Beshtau. And "besh" in Tatar means five, "tau" - mountain. Hot sulfuric water flows from this mountain. This water is hot as boiling water, and above the place where the water comes from the mountain, there is always steam, like over a samovar. The whole place where the city stands is very cheerful. Hot springs flow from the mountains, the river Podkumok flows under the mountain. There are forests along the mountain, fields all around, and in the distance you can always see the great Caucasus Mountains. On these mountains the snow never melts and they are always white as sugar. One big mountain Elbrus, like a sugar white head, is visible from everywhere when the weather is clear. People come to hot springs for treatment; and over the springs gazebos and sheds were made, gardens and paths were laid out all around. Music plays in the morning, and people drink water or bathe and walk.
The city itself stands on a mountain, and under the mountain there is a settlement. I lived in this settlement in a small house. The house stood in the yard, and in front of the windows there was a garden, and in the garden stood the master's bees - not in logs, as in Russia, but in round wattles. The bees there are so peaceful that I always sat in the morning with Bulka in this garden between the beehives.
Bulka walked among the hives, was surprised at the bees, sniffed, listened to how they buzzed, but walked around them so carefully that he did not interfere with them, and they did not touch him.
One morning I came home from the water and sat down to drink coffee in the front garden. Bulka began scratching behind his ears and rattling his collar. The noise disturbed the bees, and I removed the collar from Bulka. A little later, I heard a strange and terrible noise from the city from the mountain. Dogs barked, howled, squealed, people screamed, and this noise descended from the mountain and came closer and closer to our settlement. Bulka stopped scratching, put his broad head with white teeth between his front white paws, put his tongue in the way it needed to, and lay quietly beside me.
When he heard the noise, he seemed to understand what it was, pricked up his ears, bared his teeth, jumped up and began to growl.
The noise was getting closer. Like dogs from all over the city howled, squealed and barked. I went out to the gate to look, and the mistress of my house came up too. I asked:
- What it is?
She said:
- These are the convicts from the prison go - they beat the dogs. Many dogs were divorced, and the city authorities ordered to beat all the dogs in the city.
- How, and Bulka will be killed if he gets caught?
- No, in collars they are not ordered to beat.
At the same time, as I said, the convicts had already approached our yard.
Soldiers walked in front, four convicts in chains behind. Two of the convicts had long iron hooks in their hands and two had clubs. In front of our gates, one convict hooked a yard dog with a hook, pulled it to the middle of the street, and another convict began to beat it with a club. The little dog squealed terribly, and the convicts shouted something and laughed. The hooker with the hook turned the little dog over, and when he saw that she was dead, he took out the hook and began to look around to see if there was another dog.
At this time, Bulka headlong, as he throws himself at a bear, rushed at this convict. I remembered that he was without a collar and shouted:
- Bulka, back! - and shouted to the convicts so that they would not beat Bulka.
But the convict saw Bulka, laughed and deftly hit Bulka with a hook, and caught him by the thigh. Bulka rushed away; but the convict pulled him towards him and shouted to another:
- Bay!
Another swung a club, and Bulka would have been killed, but he rushed, the skin broke on his thigh, and, tail between his legs, with a red wound on his leg, he flew headlong into the gate, into the house and huddled under my bed.
He was saved by the fact that his skin broke through in the place where the hook was.

The end of Bulka and Milton

Bulka and Milton ended at the same time.
The old Cossack did not know how to deal with Milton. Instead of taking him with him only on a bird, he began to lead him after wild boars. And in the same autumn, the boar billhook speared it. No one knew how to sew it up, and Milton died.
Bulka also did not live long after he escaped from the convicts. Soon after his rescue from the convicts, he became bored and began to lick everything he came across. He licked my hands, but not in the same way as before, when he caressed. He licked for a long time and leaned heavily with his tongue, and then began to grab with his teeth. Apparently, he needed to bite his hand, but he did not want to. I didn't give him a hand. Then he began to lick my boot, the table leg and then bite the boot or the table leg. This went on for two days, and on the third day he disappeared, and no one saw or heard about him.
It was impossible to steal him, and he could not leave me, and this happened to him six weeks after he was bitten by a wolf. So, the wolf, for sure, was rabid. Bulka got mad and left. What happened to him in a hunting way is a stack. It is said that rabies consists in convulsions in the throat of a rabid animal. Rabid animals want to drink and cannot, because the convulsions are made worse by water. Then they lose their temper from pain and thirst and begin to bite. It's true, Bulka started having these convulsions when he started to lick and then bite my hand and table leg.
I went everywhere in the district and asked about Bulka, but I could not find out where he had gone and how he had died. If he ran and bit, like rabid dogs do, then I would hear about him. Oh, right, he ran somewhere in the wilderness and one died there. Hunters say that when a smart dog has a runny nose, it runs away to the fields or forests and there it looks for the grass that it needs, falls out in the dew and heals itself.
Apparently, Bulka could not be cured. He did not return and disappeared.
———————————————————
Leo Tolstoy. Tales, stories, fables,
story. Reading for free online

Officer's Tale

I had a face... Her name was Bulka. She was all black, only the tips of her front paws were white.

In all muzzles, the lower jaw is longer than the upper and the upper teeth extend beyond the lower ones; but Bulka's lower jaw protruded so far forward that a finger could be placed between the lower and upper teeth. Bulka's face was broad; the eyes are large, black and shiny; and white teeth and fangs always stuck out. He looked like an arap. Bulka was quiet and did not bite, but he was very strong and tenacious. When he used to cling to something, he would grit his teeth and hang like a rag, and he, like a tick, could not be torn off in any way.

I adopted him as a puppy and fed him myself. When I went to serve in the Caucasus, I did not want to take him and left him quietly, and ordered him to be locked up. At the first station, I was about to sit down on another sling, when I suddenly saw that something black and shiny was rolling along the road. It was Bulka in his copper collar. He flew at full speed to the station. He rushed towards me, licked my hand and stretched out in the shade under the cart. His tongue stuck out to the palm of his hand. He then pulled it back, swallowing saliva, then again stuck it out on a whole palm. He was in a hurry, did not keep up with breathing, his sides were jumping. He turned from side to side and tapped his tail on the ground.

I later found out that after me he broke through the frame and jumped out of the window and directly, in my wake, galloped along the road and galloped about twenty versts in the heat.

I had a muzzle. Her name was Bulka. She was all black

the tips of the front paws were white.

In all muzzles, the lower jaw is longer than the upper, and the upper teeth come in

for the bottom; but Bulka's lower jaw protruded so far forward that his finger could

was laid between the lower and upper teeth. Bulka's face was wide,

eyes large, black and shining; and white teeth and fangs always stuck out

out. He looked like an arap. Bulka was quiet and did not bite, but he was

very strong and tenacious. When he used to cling to something, he would squeeze

teeth and hang like a rag, and like a tick, you can’t tear it off in any way.

Once they let him attack a bear, and he grabbed the bear's ear and hung,

like a leech. The bear beat him with his paws, pressed him to himself, threw him from side to side.

side, but could not tear it off and fell on his head to crush Bulka;

but Bulka held on to him until they poured cold water on him.

I adopted him as a puppy and fed him myself. When I went to serve in the Caucasus, I did not

wanted to take him and left him quietly, and ordered him to be locked up. On first

station, I already wanted to sit on another cross-beam [Cross-carriage,

drawn by horses that changed at post stations; "on the

perekladnykh" traveled in Russia before the railways], as

suddenly he saw that something black and shiny was rolling down the road. This was

Bulka in his copper collar. He flew at full speed to the station. He rushed

towards me, licked my hand and stretched out in the shade under the cart.

His tongue stuck out to the palm of his hand. He then pulled him back, swallowing

drool, then again protruded into the whole palm. He was in a hurry, did not keep up with breathing,

his sides jumped like that. He turned from side to side and tapped his tail

I found out later that after me he broke through the frame and jumped out of the window and

straight, in my wake, galloped along the road and galloped about twenty versts to

the hottest.

BULKA AND BOAR

Once in the Caucasus we went hunting for wild boars, and Bulka came running with

me. As soon as the hounds drove off, Bulka rushed to their voice and disappeared into

forest. It was in the month of November: wild boars and pigs are then very fat.

In the Caucasus, in the forests where wild boars live, there are many delicious fruits:

wild grapes, cones, apples, pears, blackberries, acorns, thorns. And when

all these fruits will ripen and be touched by frost, the boars are eaten and fattening.

At that time, the boar is so fat that it cannot run under

dogs. When they drive him for two hours, he clogs himself into a thicket and

stops. Then the hunters run to the place where he stands, and

shoot. By the barking of dogs, you can know whether the boar has stopped or is running. If he runs

then the dogs bark with a squeal, as if they were being beaten; and if he stands, then they bark,

like a person, and howl.

In this hunt, I ran for a long time through the forest, but not once did I manage to run across

boar road. At last I heard the long-drawn-out barking and howling of the hounds, and I ran

to that place. I was already close to the boar. I've already heard more crackling noises.

It was a boar tossing and turning with dogs. But it was heard by barking that they did not take it,

but just circled around. Suddenly I heard something rustling behind me, and I saw

Bulka. He apparently lost the hounds in the forest and got confused, and now he heard both barking and

just as I, that was the spirit, rolled in that direction. He ran across the clearing

through the tall grass, and all I could see from him was his black head and

bitten tongue in white teeth. I called out to him, but he did not look back, overtook

me and hid in the thicket. I ran after him, but the further I went, the forest

became more and more often. Bitches knocked off my hat, hit me in the face, needles

thorns clung to her dress. I was already close to barking, but I couldn't do anything

Suddenly I heard the dogs barking louder; something crackled violently, and

the boar began to puff and wheezed. I thought that now Bulka got

before him and fiddling with him. With the last of my strength, I ran through the thicket to that place.

In the most remote thicket I saw a motley hound. She barked and howled at

in one place, and three paces away something was fussing and turning black.

When I moved closer, I examined the boar and heard that Bulka

squealed piercingly. The boar grunted and poked his head at the hound, the hound pulled

tail and bounced off. I could see the side of the boar and his head. I took aim at

side and fired. I saw that it hit. The boar grunted and crackled away from me.

more often. The dogs squealed and barked after him, and more often I rushed after them.

Suddenly, almost under my feet, I saw and heard something. It was Bulka.

He lay on his side and squealed. There was a pool of blood underneath. I thought it was gone

dog; but now I was not up to it, I was breaking further.

Soon I saw a boar. The dogs grabbed him from behind, and he turned around

to one side or the other. When the boar saw me, he leaned towards me. I

fired another time almost point-blank, so that the bristles caught fire on the boar, and

the boar wheezed, staggered, and with his whole carcass fell heavily to the ground.

When I approached, the boar was already dead, and only here and there it

puffed up and twitched. But the dogs, bristling, alone tore at his belly and

legs, while others lapped up the blood from the wound.

Then I remembered Bulka and went to look for him. He crawled towards me and

groaned. I went up to him, sat down and looked at his wound. He had a rip

stomach, and a whole lump of intestines from the stomach dragged along the dry leaves. When

Comrades came up to me, we set Bulka's intestines and sewed up his stomach. Till

they sewed up my stomach and pierced the skin, he kept licking my hands.

The boar was tied to the tail of a horse to be taken out of the forest, and Bulka

put on a horse and so brought him home. Bulka was ill for six weeks and

recovered.

MILTON AND BULKA

I got myself a setter for the pheasants. The dog's name was Milton; she is

was tall, thin, speckled in gray, with long frills [Bryla, bryl -

thick, pendulous lips of a dog] and ears, and very strong and intelligent. With Bulka

they didn't squabble. Not a single dog has ever snapped at Bulka. He used to

just show their teeth, and the dogs tuck their tails in and walk away. One

once I went with Milton for pheasants. Suddenly Bulka ran after me into the forest. I

I wanted to drive him away, but I couldn't. And going home to take him away was

far. I thought that he would not interfere with me, and went on; but just now

Milton sensed a pheasant in the grass and began to search, Bulka rushed forward and began

poke in all directions. He tried before Milton to raise the pheasant. He

heard something in the grass, jumped, twirled; but his instinct is bad, and he

could not find a trace alone, but looked at Milton and ran where he went

Milton. As soon as Milton sets off on the trail, Bulka will run ahead. I

recalled Bulka, beat him, but could not do anything with him. As soon as Milton

began to search, he rushed forward and interfered with him. I wanted to go home

because I thought that my hunting was spoiled, but Milton thought better than me,

How to deceive Bulka. This is what he did: as soon as Bulka runs to him

forward, Milton will leave a trace, turn the other way and pretend that he

looking for. Bulka will rush to where Milton pointed, and Milton will look back at

me, wag his tail and follow the real trail again. Bulka again

runs to Milton, runs ahead, and again Milton deliberately takes steps

ten aside, deceive Bulka and again lead me straight. So all

He willingly deceived Bulka and did not let him ruin things.

BULKA AND THE WOLF

When I left the Caucasus, there was still a war there, and it was dangerous at night

travel without an escort [Convoy - here: security].

I wanted to leave as early as possible in the morning and for this I did not go to bed.

My friend came to see me off, and we sat all evening and night on

village street in front of my hut.

It was a month long night with fog, and it was so light that you could read, although

month was not visible.

In the middle of the night we suddenly heard a squeaking in the yard across the street.

piglet. One of us shouted:

It's the wolf strangling the pig!

I ran to my hut, grabbed a loaded gun and ran out into the street.

Everyone stood at the gate of the yard where the pig squeaked and shouted to me: "Here!"

Milton rushed after me - it’s true, he thought that I was going hunting with a gun, -

and Bulka raised his short ears and darted from side to side, as if

asked who he was told to grab onto. When I ran up to the wattle fence, I saw

that from the other side of the yard a beast is running straight towards me. It was a wolf. He ran up

to the fence and jumped on it. I pulled away from him and readied my gun. how

only the wolf jumped off the wattle fence to my side, I kissed almost point-blank and

pulled the trigger; but the gun made a "chick" and did not fire. The wolf didn't stop

and ran across the street. Milton and Bulka set off after him. Milton was close

from a wolf, but, apparently, was afraid to grab him; and Bulka, no matter how he hurried to

his short legs, could not keep up. We ran as hard as we could for the wolf, but

both the wolf and the dogs disappeared from our sight. Only at the ditch at the corner of the village we

heard barking, screeching, and saw through the monthly fog that rose

dust and that the dogs were playing with the wolf. When we ran to the ditch, the wolf was already

was not, and both dogs returned to us with their tails up and angry

persons. Bulka growled and pushed me with his head - he obviously wanted something.

tell, but he couldn't.

We examined the dogs and found that Bulka had a small wound on his head.

He apparently caught up with the wolf in front of the ditch, but did not manage to capture it, and the wolf

snapped and ran away. The wound was small, so there was nothing dangerous.

We went back to the hut, sat and talked about what had happened.

I was annoyed that my gun had stopped working, and kept thinking about how, right there,

in place, the wolf remained, if it had fired. My friend was surprised that

the wolf could get into the yard. The old Cossack said that there is nothing here

surprising that it was not a wolf, but that it was a witch and that she

enchanted my gun. So we sat and talked. Suddenly dogs

rushed, and we saw in the middle of the street in front of us again the same wolf; but

this time he ran so fast from our cry that the dogs did not catch up

After that, the old Cossack was already completely convinced that it was not a wolf, but

witch; and I thought that it was not a rabid wolf, because I never

I saw and did not hear that the wolf, after being driven away, returned

back to the people.

Just in case, I sprinkled Bulke on the wound with gunpowder and lit it. Powder

flared up and burned the sore spot.

I burned the wound with gunpowder in order to burn out the furious saliva, if it was not already

managed to enter the blood. If saliva got in and entered the blood, then I knew

that through the blood it will disperse throughout the body, and then it can no longer be cured.

WHAT HAPPENED TO BULKA IN PYATIGORSK

From the village I did not go straight to Russia, but first to Pyatigorsk, and stayed there for two months. I gave Milton to a Cossack hunter, and I took Bulka with me to Pyatigorsk.

One big mountain Elbrus, like a sugar white head, is visible from everywhere when the weather is clear. People come to hot springs for treatment; and over the springs gazebos and sheds were made, gardens and paths were laid out all around. Music plays in the morning, and people drink water or swim and walk.

Bulka walked among the hives, was surprised at the bees, sniffed, listened to how they buzzed, but walked around them so carefully that he did not interfere with them, and they did not touch him.

How, and Bulka will be killed if he gets caught?

No, in collars they are not ordered to beat.

At the same time, as I said, the convicts had already approached our yard.

shouted something and laughed. The hooker with the hook turned the little dog over, and when he saw that she was dead, he took out the hook and began to look around to see if there was another dog.

At this time, Bulka headlong, as he threw himself at the bear, rushed at this convict. I remembered that he was without a collar, and shouted: "Bulka, back!" - and shouted to the convicts so that they would not beat Bulka. But the prisoner saw Bulka, laughed, and deftly hit Bulka with his hook and caught him by the thigh. Bulka rushed away; but the prisoner pulled him towards him and shouted to another: “Beat!” Another swung a club, and Bulka would have been killed, but he rushed, the skin broke on his thigh, and, tail between his legs, with a red wound on his leg, he flew headlong into the gate, into the house and huddled under my bed.

He was saved by the fact that his skin broke through in the place where the hook was.

Year of writing: 1862

Genre: story

Plot

The author, who was a passionate hunter, had many dogs. Among them stood out the dog Bulka, whom the owner took as a puppy and raised himself. Bulka was a brave, strong and devoted dog. Once the owner went to the Caucasus, he was an officer, and did not take the dog with him. But the dog broke the frame in the room where he was locked up and ran twenty miles in the footsteps of the owner until he overtook him.

Bulka constantly went hunting and behaved there very boldly, if not recklessly. HE could throw himself at both a boar and a wolf, so he was often wounded and the owner had to take care of him.

And once the poor dog almost died when the convicts who killed stray dogs grabbed him and also wanted to kill him. BUT he was lucky, he managed to escape and hide.

Conclusion (my opinion)

Dogs are the most loyal animals, they can be the best friends and will never betray. They protect their master and are ready to give their lives for him. Even when the owner sewed up the dog's stomach, hurt him, Bulka only licked his hands and endured.