uty" — he was thinking of his horse — "you, my beauty, spread yourself out and don't knock your foot against anything for if you stumble now we're lost. Let me but get to my musket, and I'm hanged if I surrender."
But Kostuilin, instead of waiting, bolted off at full speed in the direction of the fortress as soon as he beheld the Tatars. He lashed his horse first on one side and then on the other. Only the strong sweep of her tail was visible in the dust
Zhilin perceived that he was in a bit of a hole. His musket was gone, and with a simple shashka[1] nothing could be done. He drove his horse on in the direction of the Russian soldiers — there was just a chance of getting away. He saw that six of them were galloping away to cut him off. He had a good horse under him, but they had still better, and they were racing their hardest to bar his way. He began to hesitate, wanted to turn in another direction, but his horse had lost her head, he couldn't control her, and she was rushing right upon them. He saw approaching him on a grey horse a Tatar with a red beard. The Tatar uttered a shrill cry, gnashed his teeth, and his musket was all ready.
"Well," thought Zhilin, "I know what you are, you devils, if you take me alive you'll put me in a dungeon and whip me. I'll not be taken alive."
Zhilin was small of stature, but he was brave. Drawing his shashka, he urged his horse straight upon the red-bearded Tatar, thinking to him
- ↑ A Circassian sabre.
