“Russian shot our hearts is rending,
    Falls the Mullah on his knee,
    To the Lord of Light bows he,
  To the Prophet he is bending: 
  Like a shaft his prayer ascending,
    Upward flies to Allah’s throne—­
  Il-Allah!  O save thine own!”

  “Ah, despair!—­What crash like thunder! 
    Lo! a sign from heaven above! 
    Lo! the forest seems to move
  Crashes, murmurs, bursts asunder! 
  Lower, nearer, wonder! wonder! 
    Safe once more the Moslem bold
    In their forest mountain-hold!”

“So it was in old times,” said Djemboulat, with a smile, “when our old men trusted more to prayer, and God oftener listened to them; but now, my friends, there is a better hope—­your valour! Our omens are in the scabbards of our shooshkas, (sabres,) and we must show that we are not ashamed of them.  Harkye, Ammalat,” he continued, twisting his mustache, “I will not conceal from you that the affair may be warm.  I have just heard that Colonel K——­ has collected his division; but where he is, or how many troops he has, nobody knows.”

“The more Russians there are the better,” replied Ammalat, quietly; “the fewer mistakes will be made.”

“And the heavier will be the plunder.”

“I care not for that.  I seek revenge and glory.”

“Glory is a good bird, when she lays a golden egg; but he that returns with his toroks (straps behind the saddle) empty, is ashamed to appear before his wife.  Winter is near, and we must provide our households at the expense of the Russians, that we may feast our friends and allies.  Choose your station, Ammalat Bek.  Do you prefer to advance in front to carry off the flocks, or will you remain with me in the rear?  I and the Abreks will march at a foot’s pace to restrain the pursuers.”

“That is what I also intend.  I will be where the greatest peril is.  But what are the Abreks, Djemboulat?”

“It is not easy to explain.  You sometimes see several of our boldest cavaliers take an oath, binding them for two or three years, or as long as they like, never to mingle in games or gayeties, never to spare their lives in battle, to give no quarter, never to pardon the least offence in a brother or a friend, to seize the goods of others without fear or scruple—­in a word, to be the foes of all mankind, strangers in their family, men whom any person may slay if he can; in the village they are dangerous neighbours, and in meeting them you must keep your hand on the trigger; but in war one can trust them.” [22]

“For what motive, or reason, can the Ouzdens make such an engagement?”

“Some simply to show their courage, others from poverty, a third class from some misfortune.  See, for instance, yonder tall Kabardinetz; he has sworn to be an Abrek for five years, since his mistress died of the small-pox.  Since that year it would be as well to make acquaintance with a tiger as with him.  He has already been wounded three times for blood-vengeance; but he cares not for that.”