“Is it indeed you, my father, my friend?” he exclaimed. “Most welcome, are you to our native land, and well have you shown this day that, among the effeminate nations in whose lands you have journeyed, you have not forgotten the use of your sharp sword. Thanks, brave Hadji, for your timely succour.”
“Oh! it is nothing,” replied the Hadji, laughing; “I will soon show the Urus that I love them not better than of yore. And you, Uzden, glad I am to see you, and to have lost no time in wetting my blade in the blood of the cursed Urus for your sake.”
“Thanks, many thanks, my father,” answered the chief. “But where is that gallant young warrior, who rushed so bravely to my aid when hard pressed by the Cossacks?”
“He is my friend, my adopted son,” replied the Hadji; “a true son of the Attèghèi, as he has this day shown himself to be; but he gives not his name, nor know I even whence he comes. He will first do some deed to win a name for himself, and to show himself worthy of his father and his tribe; and happy will be the father who can own him.”
“Happy will he be, indeed,” replied Arslan Gherrei, sighing; “for he is well worthy to be the son of the bravest of our chiefs. Whither has he gone? Let me hasten to thank him.”
“I saw him last,” replied the Hadji, “closely pursuing the flying troops; I thought he had returned. Perhaps he and his followers have already gone up the mountain’s side.”
“Allah forbid that the brave youth should have been laid low by the fire of the enemy, or fallen into their cursed power; for little mercy would they show him.”
Search was made in every direction for the gallant stranger, but he could nowhere be found; and the chieftains, at length summoning the remainder of their warriors, hastened to overtake the party who had preceded them.