But Archag, not listening, had already jumped on the horse's back. The creature gave a start on feeling this unaccustomed burden, kicked, stood up on his hind legs, then, seeing that nothing could rid him of his rider, darted off like an arrow toward the valley. But Archag had been used to horses ever since he was a baby, and the stallion did not succeed in throwing him by any of these tricks. He sat up straight in the saddle, holding the reins lightly. This mad ride was enchanting to him, and he had no sense of danger. At length the horse's high spirit began to flag; he stopped a moment to drink at a stream, then started up a steep slope. After running half way round the valley, he returned to the pasture of his own accord, and Archag soon caught sight of the Highland Farm. The shepherds, well frightened by these pranks, came to meet him and praise him for his courage. The little boy sprang to the ground, gently patted his steed, and wiped off with his handkerchief the sweat that covered him. After that, our friend took a ride on his new horse every morning, and before long claimed him as his own. A young shepherd lad, called Jakoub, was his companion on these rides. Boghos Effendi had not the time to go about with him, and he considered his son still too much of a child to ride about alone over hill and dale. The two boys would go off early in the morning, taking their dinner of hard-boiled eggs, cheese, bread and fruit with them, and would not return until evening. The country offered a great variety of excursions; in two months the boys had roamed over all the valleys, climbed all the hills in the vicinity, and explored the forests, still almost virgin. With this sort of life, Archag's face grew brown, his chest broadened, and his muscles hardened. "Where shall we go to-morrow?" he asked his new friend one evening. "To the Kutshukdéré (Little Valley), and we will go in bathing in the lake." "Yok yok, (no, no,)" replied Archag, "we have been there four times already." "Well, then, let's go to the village of Buldur." "No, I don't care anything about that." Archag was in a naughty mood; he kicked his heels against the rock on which he was sitting. "We might go to the cave of Karadéré (Black Valley)," said Jakoub, after a while, hesitating, "only----" "Only what?" "Only the neighborhood is infested by brigands, and your father would never let us go there if he knew." "Is it far from here?" "Six hours on horseback; but the road is bad, and hard to find." "Have you been there yourself?" "Yes, last year with my dayeh (uncle). Just imagine a hall underground, as high as a cathedral, all decorated with festoons and lace of stone! I never saw anything so beautiful in all my life, and I would just like to go there again like everything!" cried Jakoub, quite carried away by his enthusiasm. "Didn't the brigands do anything to you?"