iarly striking. That morning in the
steppe it was quiet and dull, though the sun had already risen. It all
seemed specially soft and desolate. The air was hushed, the footfalls
and the snorting of the horses were the only sounds to be heard, and
even they quickly died away.

The men rode almost silently. A Cossack always carries his weapons so
that they neither jingle nor rattle. Jingling weapons are a terrible
disgrace to a Cossack. Two other Cossacks from the village caught the
party up and exchanged a few words. Lukashka's horse either stumbled or
caught its foot in some grass, and became restive--which is a sign of
bad luck among the Cossacks, and at such a time was of special
importance. The others exchanged glances and turned away, trying not to
notice what had happened. Lukaskha pulled at the reins, frowned
sternly, set his teeth, and flourished his whip above his head. His
good Kabarda horse, prancing from one foot to another not knowing with
which to start, seemed to wish to fly upwards on wings. But Lukashka
hit its well-fed sides with his whip once, then again, and a third
time, and the horse, showing its teeth and spreading out its tail,
snorted and reared and stepped on its hind legs a few paces away from
the others.

'Ah, a good steed that!' said the cornet.

That he said steed instead of HORSE indicated special praise.

'A lion of a horse,' assented one of the others, an old Cossack.

The Cossacks rode forward silently, now at a footpace, then at a trot,
and these changes were the only incidents that interrupted for a moment
the stillness and solemnity of their movements.

Riding through the steppe for about six miles, they passed nothing but
one Nogay tent, placed on a cart and moving slowly along at a distance
of about a mile from them. A Nogay family was moving from one part of
the steppe to another. Afterwards they met two tattered Nogay women
with high cheekbones, who with baskets on their backs were gathering
dung left by the cattle that wandered over the steppe. The cornet, who
did not know their language well, tried to question them, but they did
not understand him and, obviously frightened, looked at one another.

Lukashka rode up to them both, stopped his horse, and promptly uttered
the usual greeting. The Nogay women were evidently relieved, and began
speaking to him quite freely as to a brother.

'Ay--ay, kop abrek!' they said plaintively, pointing in the direction
in which the Cossac