Harold Lamb

“ Kirdy murmured, “you served me well. May you have good hunting!”
The loss of the wolfhound saddened him for a day. Karai had gone from his side, to the steppe. And Nada, too, had vanished as if the earth had swallowed her and the bay stallion. The Cossack quested far to the south, searching for the trail that must show where Otrèpiev and his men had landed. Then for a week he rode north without seeing so much as the track of a horse. No human being appeared on the sky-line. ”

“ During the two months he had met few human beings because he avoided the larger clusters of tents, only riding up to the fires of two or three men—thin-faced nomads with long greasy hair, who tried first to bargain with him, then to beg. Their language he did not know but he had no doubt whatever that they were born thieves as well as idol worshippers and filth eaters. More than once he had to draw his sword.
When he asked where lay the Altyn Juz—the Golden Horde—these creatures merely stared at him or shook their heads. ”

“ The stamp of hoofs and the heavy breathing of near-winded ponies drew closer. Kirdy stepped forward and laughed.
“O ye men of the night! I am Ak Sokol. My mother is the steppe, my father the great river. Never will I take grass in my teeth and cast down my weapon.”
“Bil ma'ida! Art thou in truth the White Falcon?”
The speaker seemed surprized, even a little startled, and Kirdy took instant advantage.
“Aye, so. I ride to the Golden Horde.” ”

“ For the Golden Horde was no more than a name, spoken by wanderers. Some said the Horde was to be found beyond the Earth Girdle, others said the Horde was not made up of living men but of spirits, penned eternally behind a rampart far toward the rising sun.
All these matters Kirdy pondered for a day while he rested the kabardas and repaired his arrows. Then, well content with his course, he set out. Lacking a trail, he turned his horse's head toward the rising sun.
THE grass of the steppe grew long and tough, and the wind dried up the dark pools of water in the hollows. ”

“ Kirdy—although he had examined every inch of ground in the camp site—had seen no other traces of Nada.
His eyes gleamed under knotted brows.
“May the Father and Son grant that I come up with them!”
But, however his spirit burned in him, he did nothing in haste. When he had eaten he threw the bones far enough from the fire to be sure that the wolves that came after them would not approach the horses. Then he led the ponies off to water and picketed them. He piled more brush on the fire and rolled himself up in his fur. ”

“ But no men were to be seen. Certainly the cattle and sheep were not wild—dogs did not shepherd mountain sheep. In the steppe the beasts of a tribe are always guarded, unless the owner is so feared that enemies dare not take what belongs to him.
And in the steppe, rich grassland such as this with abundant water in midsummer is a prize to be fought for and held with bullet and steel until the coming of frost drives herds and men to the southern pastures.
At night the Cossack could make out no fires, or any smoke by day. The herds seemed masterless. ”

“ The words were Tatar, and Kirdy heard them with satisfaction. These riders, then, were not marauding Kara Kalpaks, or Turkomans—though they were certainly not the Tatars of the Gobi. He answered promptly, because armed men on the steppe are tolerant of neither silence nor fear. ”