the
Keifars, or barracks of the regiment of Kourin; while on both sides of
the road, fragments of rock lay in picturesque disorder, rolled down in
heaps by the violence of the mountain-torrents. A forest of ilex,
covered with hoar-frost, thickened as it approached Vellikent, and at
each verst the retinue of Verkhoffsky was swelled by fresh arrivals of
_Beglar_ and _Agalar_[4]. The hunting party now turned to the left, and
they speedily heard the cry of the _ghayalstchiks_[5] assembled from the
surrounding villages. The hunters formed into an extended chain, some on
horseback, and some running on foot; and soon the wild-boars also began
to show themselves.

[4] _Lar_ is the Tartar plural of all substantives.

[5] Beaters for the game.

The umbrageous oak-forests of Daghestan have served, from time
immemorial, as a covert for innumerable herds of wild hogs; and although
the Tartars--like the Mussulmans--hold it a sin not only to eat, but
even to touch the unclean animal, they consider it a praiseworthy act to
destroy them--at least they practise the art of shooting on these
beasts, as well as exhibit their courage, because the chase of the
wild-boar is accompanied by great danger, and requires cunning and
bravery.

The lengthened chain of hunters occupied a wide extent of ground; the
most fearless marksmen selecting the most solitary posts, in order to
divide with no one else the glory of success, and also because the
animals make for those points where there are fewer people. Colonel
Verkhoffsky, confident in his gigantic strength and sure eye, posted
himself in the thickest of the wood, and halted at a small savannah to
which converged the tracks of numerous wild-boars. Perfectly alone,
leaning against the branch of a fallen tree, he awaited his game.
Interrupted shots were heard on the right and left of his station; for a
moment a wild-boar appeared behind the trees; at length the bursting
crash of falling underwood was heard, and immediately a boar of uncommon
size darted across the field like a ball fired from a cannon. The
Colonel took his aim, the bullet whistled, and the wounded monster
suddenly halted, as if in surprise--but this was but for an instant--he
dashed furiously in the direction whence came the shot. The froth smoked
from his red-hot tusks, his eye burned in blood, and he flew at the
enemy with a grunt. But Verkhoffsky showed no alarm, waiting for the
nearer approach of the brute: a secon