like madmen, flogging our horses with all our might, and flying
after them.

The dogs would come up with the hare, turn it, then turn it
again, the young and fiery Sultan and Darling running over it,
catching up again, and running over again; and at last the old
and experienced Winger, who had been galloping on one side all
the time, would seize her opportunity, and spring in. The hare
would give a helpless cry like a baby, and the dogs, burying
their fangs in it, in a star-shaped group, would begin to tug in
different directions.

"Let go! Let go!"

We would come galloping up, finish off the hare, and give
the dogs the tracks, [9] tearing them off toe by toe, and
throwing them to our favorites, who would catch them in the air.
Then papa would teach us how to strap the hare on the back of the
saddle.

[9] Pazanki, tracks of a hare, name given to the
last joint of the hind legs.


After the run we would all be in better spirits, and get to
better places near Yasenki and Retinka. Gray hares
would get up oftener. Each of us would have his spoils in the
saddle-straps now, and we would begin to hope for a fox.

Not many foxes would turn up. If they did, it was generally