encumber their steeds of the
dead one, they immediately began the pursuit again. We waited for them
to get near again, then fired in quick succession and brought down their
other horses, in spite of the bullets which the Russians rained upon us,
and which, fortunately, struck none who were in the sledge. Baffled in
their pursuit, we saw our enemies standing knee-deep in the snow
watching us as we dashed along.

"Well," remarked Denviers, as we slackened our speed at last, "we have
had a strange running fight, such as I least of all expected."

"The sahibs have saved the woman," said our guide. "Their slave the Arab
believes that even the Great Prophet would approve of what they have
done. The promise to convey Marie Lovetski to the mujik's hut will now
surely be kept"; and so it came about, for the daughter of Lovetski the
Lost lived to find freedom hers on another soil and under another flag.

_Illustrated Interviews._

No. XXIII.--MR. HARRY FURNISS.

[Illustration: "INTERVIEWED!"]

It is the proud boast of every married man, and more particularly so
when his quiver is fairly full, that he presides over the happiest home
in the land. But there is a corner of Regent's Park where stands a house
whose four walls contain an amount of fun and unadulterated merriment,
happiness, and downright pleasure that would want a lot of beating. The
fact is that Mr. Harry Furniss is not only a merry man with his pencil.
Humour with him may mean a very profitable thing--it unquestionably
does; fun and frolic as depicted on paper by "Lika Joko" brings in, as
Digby Grant would put it, many "a little cheque." But I venture to think
that the clever caricaturist would not have half as many merry ideas
running from the mind to the pencil if he sold all his humour outside
and forgot to scatter a goodly proportion of it amongst his quartette of
children.

[Illustration: "MY LITTLE MODEL."]

[Illustration: "LITTLE GUY--OR, A FIDGETY MODEL."]

I had not been in the house five minutes before they made their presence
known. I had not been there a quarter of an hour before the discovery
was made that they were small but impressive editions of their father.
Have you heard of Harry Furniss's little model--"My Little Model"? She
is Dorothy, who sits for all the little girls in her father's pictures.
A clever, bright young woman of thirteen, with glorious auburn tresses.
For two or three years past she has not forgotten to write her fa