ed Mary.

"Exactly," I respond, "and the giant wasp of them all, Pepsis, the queen
of the wasp amazons, hunts only the biggest spider of them all,
Eurypelma, the tarantula king, and we have seen her do it."

"Well," says Mary, "even if she wants him for her children to eat, it's
a real vendetta, isn't it?"

"Indeed it is," I answer, "it's more real, and fiercer, and more
relentless, and more persistent than any human vendetta that ever was.
For every Pepsis mother in the world is always hunting for Eurypelmas to
fight. And not _all_ Corsicans have a vendetta on hand, nor all
Kentuckians a feud."

391

Sewell Ford (1868-) is noted for his fine
stories about horses, especially those in
_Horses Nine_, from which the following story
of "Pasha" is taken. (By permission of the
publishers, Charles Scribner's Sons, New York.)
Pasha plays a most important part in a human
romance with war as a background, and the
combination is very effective. Mr. Ford's
_Torchy_ stories are also very popular with
young people.

PASHA, THE SON OF SELIM

SEWELL FORD

Long, far too long, has the story of Pasha, son of Selim, remained
untold.

The great Selim, you know, was brought from far across the seas, where
he had been sold for a heavy purse by a venerable sheik, who tore his
beard during the bargain and swore by Allah that without Selim there
would be for him no joy in life. Also he had wept quite convincingly on
Selim's neck--but he finished by taking the heavy purse. That was how
Selim, the great Selim, came to end his days in Fayette County,
Kentucky. Of his many sons, Pasha was one.

In almost idyllic manner were spent the years of Pasha's coltdom. They
were years of pasture roaming and blue grass cropping. When the time was
ripe, began the hunting lessons. Pasha came to know the feel of the
saddle and the voice of the hounds. He was taught the long, easy lope.
He learned how to gather himself for a sail through the air over a
hurdle or a water-jump. Then when he could take five bars clean, when he
could clear an eight-foot ditch, when his wind was so sound that he
could lead the chase from dawn until high noon, he was sent to the
stables of a Virginia tobacco-planter who had need of a new hunter and
who could afford Arab blood.

In the stalls at Gray Oaks stables were many good hunters, but none
better than Pasha. Cream-white he was, f