3i8 CASUALS IN THE CAUCASUS 



" Mazan ! Mazan 1 Mazan ! Mazan has gone 

 home ! " 



The general scheme of escape was to make om- way 

 to the railway via the stanitza where we had obtained 

 fresh horses coming, and things went very well then up 

 to midday. We were covering the distance gaily, and 

 seemed to be on the right road. 



All the food Ali had been able to snatch and bring 

 with him was a hunk of barley bread, hard as iron. 

 We fortunately had in our pockets a few soup squares 

 prepared by the never-failing Elizabeth of Trinity 

 Street. 



Almost as though he knew our straits, a cock 

 pheasant sprinted ahead, allowing me ample time to 

 get my gun, load, and fire, when the amiable bird gave 

 up his life without a murmur. 



We hitched him, with tail trailing dolorously, to 

 All's saddle for future requirements. Time was too 

 valuable just then to feather pheasants. 



At tea-time we stopped by a stream to water the 

 horses, and make a little fire on which to heat soup in 

 an enamel drinking cup. We filled it in the river, 

 set it amid glowing embers, popped in the soup square — 

 et voild ! 



I hate to spoil the rural simplicity of the whole, but 

 — Ali would not share the meal with us because he had 

 to drink from the same cup ! His religious scruples 

 forbade, he said, majestically. We had nurtured 

 scruples, too, sanitary ones, not religious, but set 

 them aside courageously, silencing their clamour. 



