Just then two men rode out of the side street into the square. One
of them was Nazarka. The other, Lukashka, sat slightly sideways on
his well-fed bay Kabarda horse which stepped lightly over the hard
road jerking its beautiful head with its fine glossy mane. The
well-adjusted gun in its cover, the pistol at his back, and the
cloak rolled up behind his saddle showed that Lukashka had not
come from a peaceful place or from one near by. The smart way in
which he sat a little sideways on his horse, the careless motion
with which he touched the horse under its belly with his whip, and
especially his half-closed black eyes, glistening as he looked
proudly around him, all expressed the conscious strength and self-
confidence of youth. 'Ever seen as fine a lad?' his eyes, looking
from
