at once, for my Gírchik says the Ilágins are at Kornikí with their hounds. That’s it. Come on! … They’ll take the cubs from under your very nose.”
“That’s where I’m going. Shall we join up our packs?” asked Nikoláy.
The hounds were joined into one pack, and “Uncle” and Nikoláy rode on side by side.
Natásha, muffled up in shawls which did not hide her eager face and shining eyes, galloped up to them. She was followed by Pétya who always kept close to her, by Mikháilo, a huntsman, and by a groom appointed to look after her.
Pétya, who was laughing, whipped and pulled at his horse. Natásha sat easily and confidently on her black Arábchik and reined him in without effort with a firm hand.
“Uncle” looked round disapprovingly at Pétya and Natásha. He did not like to combine