THE HORSE AND HIS RIDER. 151 



"If I had a herd of a thousand mares," cried 

 Asamat, " I would give them every one for your 

 Karagos." 



" Like enough ; but I would not let him go for 

 them," said Kasbitch, with indifference. 



" Hark ye, Kasbitch," said Asamat, coaxingly. " You 

 are a good fellow, you are a brave zhigit ; my father, 

 you see, fears the Russians, and will not let me go to 

 the mountains ; now give me your horse, and I will do 

 everything you desire. I will steal you my father's 

 best rifle, his best shaska anything you will. His 

 shaska is a genuine gurda : only hold it out in your 

 hand, and the blade strikes into the flesh of its own 

 accord ; and his shirt of mail is as good as yours 

 every bit." 



Kasbitch made no answer. 



" The first time I saw your horse," continued 

 Asamat, IC as it whirled round beneath you, and dash- 

 ed away with expanded nostrils, the stones flashing 

 fire beneath its hoofs, something, I know not what, 

 seized hold of my soul, and from that moment I 

 could never bear to look at any other. I scorned my 

 father's best and fleetest steeds, I should have been 

 ashamed to be seen on the back of one of them. I 

 was completely overcome with grief, and would sit 

 pining the livelong day on a rock, and every moment I 

 had before my eyes your black horse, with his stately 

 step, his back straight and smooth as an arrow, and 



