224 THRO UGH R US SI A ON A MUS TA NG. 



only three days on the entire journey when I remained 

 in the saddle for the whole forty to fifty versts a day. 

 This would never do. Saddle-sores would inevitably 

 result ; for only by watching him with never-flagging 

 solicitude had I kept him in good condition through 

 the long, weary drag in the sweltering heat and dust of 

 the Russian midsummer. Even on the morning of the 

 fourth day he refused to lead, except toward the North. 



But that morning, as I rode along, there flashed into 

 my mind a cartoon I had once seen of a donkey race, 

 in which the victory had been won by an ingenious 

 jockey who held a carrot on the end of a stick a foot 

 or two in front of his ass's nose. In its eagerness to 

 reach the carrot, the donkey put on such a tremendous 

 burst of speed that it immediately outstripped its 

 competitors and won the race. 



There were no carrot-gardens on the steppe ; but 

 there were occasional patches of Indian corn, the sight 

 of which always aroused in Texas the criminal cov- 

 etousness of a born kleptomaniac. A handful of the 

 green succulent blades, or a half-ripe nubbin covertly 

 stolen from away-side patch, would excite in him such 

 gastronomic felicity that the juice would run out of 

 his mouth ; and he was humbly thankful even for the 

 small privilege of being allowed to dip down his head 

 and secure a half-dry husk or cob which some Kiev 

 pilgrim or harvest tramp had dropped in the road after 

 gnawing off the grain. By diplomatically playing off 

 this inordinate love of green maize against his stubborn 

 sorrow at the departure of his chum, I eventually suc- 

 ceeded in first getting him to lead, and at length even 

 to following meekly at my heels. 



