THE HORSE AND HIS RIDER. 161 



man ride out of the wood on a grey horse. He came 

 towards us, stopped on the other side of the brook, 

 and began to make his horse caper about as if he 

 was mad. " What the deuce is that ? " said I. 

 " Look yonder, Bela, your eyes are younger than 

 mine ; what sort of a zhighit is that ? For whose 

 amusement is he playing such antics ? " 



She looked towards the horseman, and cried out, 

 " It is Kasbitch ! And that is my father's horse ! " she 

 said, grasping my hand. She trembled like an aspen 

 leaf, and her eye flashed. " Ha ! the robber ! " cried 

 I, and, looking more closely, I saw sure enough it was 

 Kasbitch with his swarthy features, and his clothes 

 as ragged and dirty as ever. 



" Come here," said I, to the sentry ; " look to 

 your piece, and shoot me that fellow yonder. You 

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

 well, your honor ; 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 



