CHAPTER XV 



SPORT OF SORTS WITH THE PRIKXE 



A boar-spear in my hand, and (in my heart 

 Lie there what hidden woman's fear there will) 

 We'll have a swashing and a martial outside. 



As You Like It. 

 I love the sport well. 



Merry Wives of Windsor. 



We started out early with a number of wild men of 

 the woods to act as beaters. As we got on to our ponies 

 the Prince held the stirrup for each of us with a grave 

 courtesy which much became him. It is an old, old 

 custom in Karbarda, fast dying out, and in times gone 

 by no host ever allowed his guest to mount without 

 the graceful compliment. 



Along the banks of the swirling Kouban we rode in 

 single file, a strange and motley company, as odd as 

 any I have ever been in. We two in dapper khaki serge 

 suits, for we realized with the Chevalier D'Eon that 

 it is one thing to live in skirts in times of peace and 

 quite another in times of stress ; the sombre Prince, 

 with his Persian lambskin papak pulled low over his 

 eyes, and the sun a-gleam on his burnished belt and 

 epaulettes — inconspicuousness formed no part of this 

 sportsman's programme ; Ali Ghirik, withered as a 

 mummy, encased in a brown tscherkesska ; the others 



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