90 THE HORSE AND HIS RIDER. 



Towards the end of summer one parched and arid 

 wilderness extends around on every side, in which the 

 cattle grow thin and languid, and often perish in great 

 numbers for want of water. The Russian herdsman 

 can no longer extract a draught of milk from his cows ; 

 the Tartar finds that the dugs of his mares refuse him 

 the needful refreshment. Towards autumn the Steppe 

 is constantly set fire to ; sometimes through careless- 

 ness or wilfulness, sometimes for sake of the young 

 crop of grass that shoots up through the ashes, when 

 the mists and dewy nights of autumn give a fresh and 

 ephemeral life to the productions of the earth. The 

 fires sometimes extend for hundreds of miles, and 

 give rise to frequent accidents. 



The method of escaping from the flames, which 

 come on roaring and crackling over an extent many 

 miles in width, is not by flight ; because though the 

 steed may carry his rider faster than the fire can 

 travel, it is sure to overtake the fugitive in the long 

 run. The inhabitants of the Steppe resort to the 

 same means as those of the American prairies to save 

 themselves ; they combat fire by fire, and kindling 

 the grass to leeward, they advance in the rear of 

 the flames, which clear the way for them, and leave 

 no food for the burning sea that is rushing towards 

 them. 



In the autumn water is less scarce ; a partial ver- 

 dure springs through the withered stems of grass and 



