d time clicked the cock of his
gun--but the powder was damp and missed fire. What now remained for the
hunter? He had not even a dagger at his girdle--flight would have been
useless. As if by the anger of fate, not a single thick tree was near
him--only one dry branch arose from the oak against which he had leaned;
and Verkhoffsky threw himself on it as the only means of avoiding
destruction. Hardly had he time to clamber an arschine and a half[6]
from the ground, when the boar, enraged to fury, struck the branch with
his tusks--it cracked from the force of the blow and the weight which
was supported by it.... It was in vain that Verkhoffsky tried to climb
higher--the bark was covered with ice--his hands slipped--he was sliding
downwards; but the beast did not quit the tree--he gnawed it--he
attacked it with his sharp tusks a _tchetverin_ below the feet of the
hunter. Every instant Verkhoffsky expected to be sacrificed, and his
voice died away in the lonely space in vain. No, not in vain! The sound
of a horse's hoofs was heard close at hand, and Ammalat Bek galloped up
at full speed with uplifted sabre. Perceiving a new enemy, the wild-boar
turned at him, but a sideway leap of the horse decided the battle--a
blow from Ammalat hurled him on the earth.

[6] Rather less than an English yard.

The rescued Colonel hurried to embrace his friend, but the latter was
slashing, mangling, in a fit of rage, the slain beast. "I accept not
unmerited thanks," he answered at length, turning from the Colonel's
embrace. "This same boar gored before my eyes a Bek of Tabasoran, my
friend, when he, having missed him, had entangled his foot in the
stirrup. I burned with anger when I saw my comrade's blood, and flew in
pursuit of the boar. The closeness of the wood prevented me from
following his track; I had quite lost him; and God has brought me hither
to slay the accursed brute, when he was on the point of sacrificing a
yet nobler victim--you, my benefactor."

"Now we are quits, dear Ammalat. Do not talk of past events. This day
our teeth shall avenge us on this tusked foe. I hope you will not refuse
to taste the forbidden meat, Ammalat?"

"Not I! nor to wash it down with champagne, Colonel. Without offence to
Mahomet, I had rather strengthen my soul with the foam of the wine, than
with the water of the true believer."

The hunt now turned to the other side. From afar were heard cries and
hallooing, and the drums of the Tartars in