They found Ivan, next morning on the ground in front of the tomb that was in the center of the graveyard. He was frozen to death. The look on his face was not that of a frozen man, but of a man killed by some nameless horror.
And the captain's sword was in the ground where Ivan had pounded it---through the dragging folds of his long coat.
Ivan was a timid little man---so timid that the villages called him "pigeon" or mocked him with the title "Ivan the terrible."
Every night ivan stopped in at the tavern which was one the edge of the village graveyard. Ivan never crossed the graveyard to get to his lonely shack on the other side. That path would save many minutes, but he had never taken it---not even in the full light of noon.
Late one winter's night, when bitter wind and snow beat against the tavern, customers took up the familiar mockery. Ivan's mother was scared by a canary when she carried him in her womb. "Ivan the terrible---Ivan the timid one."
Ivan's weak protest only encouraged them, and they jeered cruelly when the cossack captain flung his horrid challenge at their victim.
"You are a pigeon, Ivan. you'll walk around the graveyard in this cold---but you dare not cross it." Ivan murmured, "the graveyard is nothing to cross, captain. It is nothing but earth, like all the other earth."
The captain cried, "a challenge, then! Cross the graveyard tonight, Ivan, and I'll give you five rubles---five gold rubles!"
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