TUR HUNTING 149 



jungly creatures. But she isn't. I once ruefully re- 

 marked on this in the hearing of a notable suffragette. 



" Wait ! " she said darkly. " Wait until we get 

 Votes for Women ! " 



But of these halcyon future times, affecting the 

 aspect of so many things, even big game shooting, 

 my Russian knew nothing. He had only unnecessary 

 doubts of me and admiration for my rifle. Altogether 

 the wrong way about. As a matter of fact, I ought to 

 have doubted the Russian's prowess, not he mine, 

 for he had extolled his skill, my cousins told me, to 

 the skies, and claimed the honour of being the finest 

 sporting shot in the Caucasus. This looked very 

 suspicious. The very fact of asseverating implies 

 mistrust of one's capabilities. It is done not only to 

 cajole others, but oneself. The best men never 

 asseverate. There is no need. 



In case you are contemplating a shooting trip with a 

 Russian for companion, I must tell you that our 

 unwritten law of " first blood " does not obtain in the 

 Muscovite code. The prize is not to him who draws 

 first blood, but to the sportsman who manages to get 

 in the final shot. The last phase, therefore, is often 

 spiced with most untoward happenings. Go warily ! 



We set off, my warrior and I, taking no servant with 

 us, through a tract of small timber which retarded us 

 woefully, as there were no " trapinkas," or game 

 trails, threading the density. After a half-mile or so of 

 this, we emerged on a steep rock-strewn slope, where 

 the trees thinned out into ones and twos, and tall 

 waving grasses grew a-riot. 



