Jack Archer: A Tale of the CrimeaHenty, G. A. (George Alfred)
General
Jack Archer: A Tale of the Crimea
Henty, G. A. (George Alfred)
Crimean War, 1853-1856 -- Juvenile fiction
The horses were harnessed in a manner quite different to anything the
lads had before seen. They were three abreast; the middle one was in
shafts, those on either side ran free in traces, and by dint, as the
boys supposed, of long training, each carried his head curved round
outwards, so that he seemed to be looking half-backwards, giving them
a most peculiar effect, exactly similar to that which may be seen in
ancient Greek bas-reliefs, and sculptures of horses in ancient
chariots. This mode of harnessing and training the horses is
peculiarly Russian, and is rigidly adhered to by all the old Russian
families. Over each horse was a blue netting reaching almost to the
ground, its object being to prevent snow or dirt being thrown up in
the faces of those sitting in the low sledge.
Cracking his whip with a report as loud as that of a pistol, the
driver set the horses in motion, and in a minute the sledge was
darting across the plain at a tremendous pace; the centre horse
trotting, the flankers going at a canter, each keeping the leg next to
the horse in the shafts in front. The light snow rose in a cloud from
the runners as the sledge darted along, and as the wind blew keenly in
their faces, and their spirits rose, the boys declared to each other
that sledging was the most glorious fun they had ever had.
They had been furnished with fur-lined coats, whose turned-up collars
reached far above their ears, and both felt as warm as toast, in spite
of the fact that the thermometer was down at zero.
The country here differed in its appearance from that over which they
had been travelling, and great forests extended to within two or three
miles of the town.
"I suppose," Dick said, "that's where the shooting is, for I can't
fancy any birds being fools enough to stop out on these plains, and if
they did, there would be no chance of getting a shot at them. How
pretty those sledge-bells are, to be sure! I wonder they don't have
them in England."
"I've seen wagons down in the country with them," Jack said, "and very
pretty the bells sounded on a still night. But the bells were not so
clear-toned as these."
From one shaft to another, in a bow, high over the horses' necks,
extended an arch of light wood, and from this hung a score of little
bells, which tinkled merrily as the sledge glided along.
"It's a delicious motion," Jack said; "no bumping or jolting, and yet,
even when one shuts one's eyes, he feels that he is going at a
tremendous pace."
The boys were amused at the driver, who frequently cracked his whip,
but never touched the horses, to whom, however, he was constantly
talking, addressing them in encouraging tones, which, as Jack said,
they seemed to understand just like Christians.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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