suppose, Godfrey?" Mr. Robson said.

"No, sir. I have played a little at my father's, but it will be a long
time before I shall be good enough to play. I have heard my father say
that there is better whist at St. Petersburg than in any place in the
world."

"I think he is right, lad. The Russians are first-rate players and are
passionately fond of the game, and naturally we English here have had to
learn to play up to their standard. The game is similar to that in
England, but they score altogether differently."

The four hours passed rapidly. Godfrey sometimes looked out of the
window at the flat country they were passing through, but more often
watched the play. They were met at the station by two of Mr. Robson's
friends, and found that sledges were in readiness and they were to start
at once.

"We have ten miles to drive," one of them said. "The others went on
early; they will have had one beat by the time we get there, and are
then to assemble for luncheon."

The road was good and the horses fast, so that the sledges flew along
rapidly. Most of the distance was through forest, but the last half-mile
was open, and the sledge drew up at a large farm-house standing in the
centre of the cleared space, and surrounded at a distance of half a mile
on all sides by the forest. A dozen men, about half of whom were in
uniform, poured out from the door as the four sledges drew up.

"You are just in time," one of them said. "The soup is ready and in
another minute we should have set to."

The civilians all knew each other, but the new-comers were introduced to
the Russian colonel and his five officers.

"Have you had any luck, colonel?" Mr. Robson asked.

"Wonderful," the latter replied with a laugh. "A stag came along and
every one of us had a shot at it, and each and every one is ready to
take oath that he hit it, so that every one is satisfied. Don't you call
that luck?"

Mr. Robson laughed. "But where is the stag?" he asked, looking round.

"That is more than any one can tell you. He went straight on, and
carried off our twelve bullets. Captain Fomitch here, and in fact all my
officers, are ready to swear that the deer is enchanted, and they have
all been crossing themselves against the evil omen. Such a thing was
never heard of before, for being such crack shots, all of us, of course
there can be no doubt about our each having hit the stag when it was not
more than a hundred yards away at the outside; but come