An attendant on a pony bore a falcon on his arm. Some pointers and a greyhound brought up the rear of the procession. Radford carried my double-barrelled gun, and a few cartridges, which on careful inspection seemed not to have been damaged by the wetting in the river. He was also a source of wonder to the crowd. It was whispered about that the gun which he carried was like the Pole's fire-arm, and that it would sometimes shoot partridges on the wing. We rode over a mountain, covered with pebbles. Presently one of the pointers began to sniff. Vankovitch thought that there was some game close at hand. He dismounted from his horse, accompanied by Daravish Bey, who was armed with the old English flint-gun. A crowd of men and urchins, who had followed us on foot from Yuzgat, watched the proceedings with the greatest interest. Suddenly a covey of partridges rose about a hundred and fifty yards from the Pole. Two reports sounded in rapid succession, the birds flew away untouched. The attendant released the falcon, and in a few seconds a partridge was in its claws. A hare broke from behind an adjacent rock. In a moment we were in headlong pursuit, the Bosnian lady riding foremost of the flight, her horse taking the boulders and loose rocks which strewed the path in a way that showed he was well accustomed to this style of hunting. A well-known sound made me turn my head. To my surprise I saw a young Turk galloping after me on Osman's horse—the roarer. I had given orders that the animal was to be left in the stable, so that he might recover from the effect of our forced marches the week before. "What are you doing with that horse?" "Effendi, I am galloping him," was the quiet reply. "Osman lent him to me, and said that he was his property. Have I done wrong in riding him?" "Yes," I said; "take him back at once." "Sir," interrupted Radford, "that is just like Osman's himpudence, a-lending things which don't belong to him, and he is not that particular in returning them either. He is always asking me to lend him some tobacco, and very little I ever see of it again, except in the smoke which comes out of his mouth." "How much are you paying for the forage of your horses?" now inquired Vankovitch, who had returned with the hare in his hand. "About seven shillings a day." The Pole began to laugh. "Seven shillings! Do you know, my dear sir, that your Turkish servant is robbing you?" "Very likely," I replied. "Most servants rob their masters. But what is the price of a horse's forage for a day?" "About one-and-a-half piastres, or at the present rate of exchange about twopence of your money. And chickens," continued Vankovitch, "what has he made you pay for them in the different villages on your route?" "A shilling a piece."