164 THE HORSE AND HIS RIDER. 



unlucky one. After we had rested, and taken breath 

 a little, we set out on our way home. 



We rode side by side in silence, with our reins 

 slackened, and had nearly reached the fort, which was 

 only concealed from our view by the copse. Suddenly 

 we heard a shot. We looked in each other's faces ; 

 the same suspicion flashed upon us both ; we galloped 

 headlong in the direction of the fort, and saw a group 

 of soldiers on the ramparts ; they pointed towards the 

 open country, and there sped a horseman with the 

 swiftness of an arrow, holding something white before 

 him on the saddle bow. Gregorii Alexandrovitch 

 gave a loud screech, that the very best Tchetchenz 

 could not have beaten, whipped out his rifle from the 

 case, and away with him, myself following. 



Fortunately, as our sporting had not been lucky, 

 our horses were still fresh ; they cleared the ground 

 at a great rate, and every moment brought us nearer 

 and nearer to the object of our pursuit. At last I 

 recognized Kasbitch ; only I could not make out what 

 it was he carried before him. I was now again along- 

 side of Petchorin, and called out to him that it was 

 Kasbitch. He cast a look at me, nodded, and lashed 

 his horse. 



At last, we were but a rifle shot from the robber. 

 Whether it was that Kasbitch's horse was fatigued, 

 or that it was worse than ours, at any rate, he did not 



