THE HORSE AND HIS RIDER. 171 



Kasbitch with his swarthy features, and his clothes 

 as ragged and dirty as ever. 



' Come here/ said I, to the sentry ; s look to 

 your piece, and shoot me that fellow yonder. You 

 shall have a silver ruble if you hit him.' 'Very 

 well, your honour ; but he never stops a moment in 

 one spot.' ' Call to him to stand still,' said I, 

 laughing. ' Holla, my good fellow,' shouted the 

 sentinel, beckoning to the horseman, ' stand still a 

 bit, will you ? what do you keep wheeling about in 

 that way for ?' Kasbitch actually stopped, and ap- 

 peared to listen, thinking, probably, that we wanted 

 to parley with him but no such thing ; my grenadier 

 levelled puff ! the piece flashed in the pan. Kas- 

 bitch struck the spur into his horse, and it made a 

 side bound. Then, standing up in the stirrups, he 

 shouted out something in his own tongue, shook his 

 nagaika, (whip) at us, and was off. 



About four hours afterwards Petchorin came back 

 from hunting. Bela threw herself on his neck ; and 

 not one word of complaint did she utter, not one 

 word of reproach for his long absence. But for my 

 part, I aould not help expostulating with him. 

 'For God's sake,' said I, ' only think! Kasbitch was 

 just now on the other side of the stream, and we 

 fired at him : it was the greatest chance that you did 



