Just then dawn began to push night from the steppe. "There is no help for it, the horses must slacken their pace," said one of the travellers, a heavy man. Single oak-trees standing here and there by the roadside swept past like phantoms, and they fled for a long time without rest or drawing breath, till finally the horses dropped their ears and began to snort from weariness, their gait grew heavy and slow.
The dark steppe seemed to fly from under their beasts. Nothing followed them but the sound of hoofs.
They shot ahead, like two arrows sent from Tartar bows. They went for a long time with the greatest care, till at length, when they saw the end of the ravine, and the open steppe, lighted a little by the gray reflection of the clouds, one of the riders whispered, "Spur on!" In the ravine nothing could be seen three steps ahead of the horses, which stumbled over the roots of the trees sticking across the road. The night had become very dark, for the moon had gone down long before, and besides clouds covered the sky.
Two persons rode quietly and slowly through the woody ravine which skirted the dwelling at Rozlogi. (in PDF, epub, and Kindle ebook formats) Chapter 19
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