Keep going! whispered Ostap to himself.
Ippolit Matveyevich had given up hope.
The larger boat was gaining on them and its long hull was already flanking them to port in an attempt to force the Grossmeister over to the bank.
A sorry fate awaited the concessionaires.
The jubilance of the chess players in the barge was so great that they all moved across to the sides to be in a better position to attack the villainous Grossmeister in superior forces as soon as they drew alongside the smaller boat.
"Watch out for your pince-nez, Pussy," shouted Ostap in despair, throwing aside the oars. "The fun is about to begin."
"Gentlemen!" cried Ippolit Matveyevich in a croaking voice, "you wouldn't hit us, would you? "
"You'll see!" roared the enthusiasts, getting ready to leap into the boat.
But at that moment something happened which will outrage all honest chess players throughout the world.
The barge listed heavily and took in water on the starboard side.
"Careful!" squealed the one-eyed captain.
But it was too late.
There were too many enthusiasts on one side of the Vasyuki dreadnought.
As the centre of gravity shifted, the boat stopped rocking, and, in full conformity with the laws of physics, capsized.
A concerted wailing disturbed the tranquillity of the river.
"Ooooooh!" groaned the chess players.
All thirty enthusiasts disappeared under the water.
They quickly came up one by one and seized hold of the upturned boat.
The last to surface was one-eye.
"You jerks!" cried Ostap in delight. "Why don't you come and get your Grossmeister?
If I'm not mistaken, you intended to trounce me, didn't you? "
Ostap made a circle around the shipwrecked mariners.
"You realize, individuals of Vasyuki, that I could drown you all one by one, don't you? But I'm going to spare your lives.
Live on, citizens!
Only don't play chess any more, for God's sake.
You're just no good at it, you jerks!
Come on, Ippolit Matveyevich, let's go.
Good-bye, you one-eyed amateurs!
I'm afraid Vasyuki will never become a world centre.
I doubt whether the masters of chess would ever visit fools like you, even if I asked them to.
Good-bye, lovers of chess thrills!
Long live the 'Four Knights Chess Club'!"
CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE
ET ALIA
Morning found the concessionaires in sight of Chebokary.
Ostap was dozing at the rudder while Ippolit Matveyevich sleepily moved the oars through the water.
Both were shivering from the chilliness of the night.
Pink buds blossomed in the east.
Ippolit Matveyevich's pince-nez was all of a glitter.
The oval lenses caught the light and alternately reflected one bank and then the other.
A signal beacon from the left bank arched in the biconcave glass.
The blue domes of Chebokary sailed past like ships.
The garden in the east grew larger, and the buds changed into volcanoes, pouring out lava of the best sweetshop colours.
Birds on the bank were causing a noisy scene.
The gold nosepiece of the pince-nez flashed and dazzled the Grossmeister.
The sun rose.
Ostap opened his eyes and stretched himself, tilting the boat and cracking his joints.
"Good morning, Pussy," he said, suppressing a yawn. "I come to bring greetings and to tell you the sun is up and is making something over there glitter with a bright, burning light. . ."
"The pier. . . ." reported Ippolit Matveyevich.
Ostap took out the guide-book and consulted it.