As the herd returned home the following evening, they met the master 258 and a guest. Zhulduiba, leading the way, cast her eyes on two men’s figures: one was the young master in a straw hat; the other, a tall, stout, military man, with wrinkled face. The old mare gazed at the man, and swerving went near to him; the rest, the younger ones, were thrown into some confusion, huddled together, especially when the master and his guest came directly into the midst of the horses, making gestures to each other, and talking.
“Here’s this one. I bought it of Voyéïkof—the dapple-gray horse,” said the master.
“And that young black mare, with the white legs—where did you get her? Fine one,” said the guest. They examined many of the horses as they walked around, or stood on the field. They remarked also the chestnut mare.
“That’s one of the saddle-horses—the breed of Khrenovsky.”