MORE DAYS OF ROAMING AND SPORT 305 



A heavy snowstorm drove us to the Castle again. 

 It came quite unexpectedly, and covered the forest in 

 a thick white pall. Unfortunately this did not last, 

 or it would have been of great assistance in our stalks 

 abroad. 



The first thing I did on getting back was to visit the 

 tumble-down outbuilding called a stable in order to 

 satisfy myself that our few trophies, particularly the 

 head-skin of my ollen, had been looked to in our 

 absence. In doing so, I unearthed the prettiest fancy. 

 My treasure, securely pinned to a board, was sur- 

 rounded with small saucers brimful of oil, six or eight 

 of them. I could not understand their meaning, or 

 guess what new system of local taxidermy was this. 

 Then Keebeet came, and Cecily, and we unravelled the 

 mystery. 



The Castle had a titular domestic spirit, as have 

 all properly conducted houses in the Caucasus, a 

 tiny little thing, called the " domovoi." His proper 

 place is behind the big kitchen stove, but at night he 

 roams about singing for his supper. It is his business 

 to make the round of the stables at midnight in order 

 to satisfy himself that the cattle are safe, and there 

 he expects to find sundry cups of oil, any kind, the 

 " domovoi " is not particular as to brand. 



Certain dates in the year, as, for instance, the Feast 

 of the Epiphany, January i8th, and odd days in Octo- 

 ber, have a disastrous effect on the spirit's temper, and 

 though the family prepare for the nerve-storms by 

 boiling millet, which the soul of the " domovoi " 

 loveth, and providing the most potent variety of 



