At times only might be seen the remote blue tops of the forests growing along the banks of the Dnieper. Once only, Tarass pointed out to his sons a small black spot at a great distance in the grass, and exclaimed, "Look, children, there is a Tartar!" A small mustachioed face peered at them with its narrow eyes, sniffed the air like a harrier, and disappeared at once, seeing there were thirteen Cossacks. "Well, lads, will you try to catch the Tartar? You had better not; you will never overtake him; his steed is swifter than my 'Devil.'" Yet, fearing some hidden mischief, he took his precautions. Coming to a narrow stream, which fell into a river, he ordered his followers to enter the water on horseback, and they did not continue their journey till they had swum a long way, to hide their track. Three days later, they were near the end of their journey. The air grew colder; they felt the proximity of the Dnieper. Behold! there it sparkles in the sun, and forms a wide dark streak beneath the sky; its cold waves come nearer and nearer, and on a sudden, surround half the horizon. It was at this part of the Dnieper that, after being compressed in its course by the rapids, it reconquered its liberty, and spreading out freely, roared like the ocean; the islands thrown in its centre made it rush still more vehemently towards the banks, and its waves rolled on the even ground without having to dash over any rocks or elevations. The Cossacks dismounted, got into a ferry-boat, and after a passage of three hours, they reached the island Khortitza, where, for the time being, was the camp of the Ssiecha, which so often changed its seat. A crowd of people stood on the bank of the river quarrelling with the ferryman. The Cossacks adjusted their horses for mounting; Tarass assumed a dignified air, tightened his belt, and proudly twirled his mustachios. His young sons, too, looked at themselves from head to foot, with some unaccountable terror, and no less unaccountable pleasure. Then they all rode together into the suburb, which was about half a verst[12] from the Ssiecha. On entering it, they were deafened by the sound of fifty blacksmith's hammers, which fell with heavy strokes in five-and-twenty forges, dug in the ground and covered with grass. Strong tanners sat in the street at their own doors, and scutched ox-hides with their powerful hands; tradespeople sat under tents, loaded with flints, steels, and gunpowder; here, an Armenian has hung up costly handkerchiefs for sale; there, a Tartar is roasting pieces of mutton rolled in dough; there, a Jew, his head stretched forward, is drawing off corn-brandy from a cask. But the first man they saw was a Zaporoghian lying asleep in the very middle of the road, his arms and legs stretched far apart. Tarass Boolba could not help stopping to admire him.