The Chechen looked at him and, turning slowly away, gazed at the opposite bank.

That look expressed not hatred but cold contempt.

He again made some remark.
'What is he saying ?' Olenin asked of the fidgety scout.
'Yours kill ours, ours slay yours.

It's always the same,' replied the scout, evidently inventing, and he smiled, showing his white teeth, as he jumped into the skiff.
The dead man's brother sat motionless, gazing at the opposite bank.

He was so full of hatred and contempt that there was nothing on this side of the river that moved his curiosity.