148 THE HORSE AND HIS RIDER. 



what he said. Very often he did not even tether it. 

 Take it for all in all, it was the very model of a rob- 

 ber's horse. 



Kasbitch was more sullen that evening than usual, 

 and I noticed that he had on a shirt of mail under his 

 beshmet. It is not for nothing, thinks T, he wears that 

 shirt of mail ; he has something in his head, I'm sure. 



The guest room was very close, and I went out of 

 doors to breathe the fresh air. Night had now settled 

 on the mountains, and the mists were creeping forth 

 from the glens. The thought struck me I would go 

 into the shed where our horses stood, and see if they 

 had fodder. I had an excellent horse with me, and 

 more than one Kabardan had already looked at him 

 with an approving eye ; so I thought a little caution 

 could do no harm in the case. 



9 



Groping along the boarded wall, I suddenly heard 

 voices. One of them I recognized instantly, for that 

 scamp Asamat's, our host's son ; the other person 

 spoke less, and in a lower tone. " What are they 

 coshering about ?" thought I ; " not about my horse, 

 is it ?" With that I squatted down by the wall, 

 determined not to lose a word ; but the noise of the 

 singing, and the din within doors, now and then drown- 

 ed a part of the conversation in which I was so much 

 interested. 



" You have a splendid horse," said Asamat. " Were 

 I master here, and had a herd of three hundred mares, 



