<Back on the road to Anga we passed the night on the bank of the Chulym. Everyone dragged to the village but I decided to stay with out guide, old man Likhachev, and his son Ilyusha...>

"A good while ago I had sugar in my tea," <Likhachev said.> And my Ilyusha  perhaps doesn't even remember its taste. You gave us a treat. Shared the uttermost... Thank you, a kindly soul... But bear in mind my advice, keep yours for yourself. Poverty made people brutal, nobody will share anything with you, nobody will help, nobody will spare you...