oices; "bring him to the
Captain: drag him to Derbend, to Colonel Verkhoffsky."

"'Tis only to hell I would go with such guides!" said Akhmet, with a
contemptuous smile, and making his horse rear, he turned him to the
right and left; then, with a blow of the nogaik,[29] he made him leap
into the air, and disappeared. The noukers kept their eye on the
movements of their chief, and uttering their warcry, followed his steps,
and overthrowing several of the soldiers, cleared a way for themselves
into the road. After galloping off to a distance of scarce a hundred
paces, the Khan rode away at a slow walk, with an expression of the
greatest _sang-froid_, not deigning to look back, and coolly playing
with his bridle. The crowd of Tartars assembled round the blacksmith
attracted his attention. "What are you quarrelling about, friends?"
asked Akhmet Khan of the nearest, reining in his horse.

[29] The whip of a Kazak.

In sign of respect and reverence, they all applied their hands to their
foreheads when they saw the Khan. The timid or peaceably disposed among
them, dreading the consequences, either from the Russians or the Khan,
to which this rencontre might expose them, exhibited much discomfiture
at the question; but the idle, the ruffian, and the desperate--for all
beheld with hatred the Russian domination--crowded turbulently round him
with delight. They hurriedly told him what was the matter.

"And you stand, like buffaloes, stupidly looking on, while they force
your brother to work like a brute under the yoke!" exclaimed the Khan,
gloomily, to the bystanders; "while they laugh in your face at your
customs, and trample your faith under their feet! and ye whine like old
women, instead of revenging yourselves like men! Cowards! cowards!"

"What can we do?" cried a multitude of voices together; "the Russians
have cannon--they have bayonets!"

"And ye, have ye not guns? have ye not daggers? It is not the Russians
that are brave, but ye that are cowards! Shame of Mussulmans! The sword
of Daghestan trembles before the Russian whip. Ye are afraid of the roll
of the cannon; but ye fear not the reproach of cowardice. The ferman of
a Russian pristav[30] is holier to you than a chapter of the Koran.
Siberia frightens you more than hell. Did your forefathers act, did your
forefathers think thus? They counted not their enemies, they calculated
not. Outnumbered or not, they met them, bravely fought them, and
gloriously died!