text:  "Kounak! (my friend )--shoe my horse--the shoes are ready--'tis but the clink of a hammer and 'tis done in a moment!" The blacksmith turned sulkily towards the Captain a face tanned by his forge and by the sun looked from the corners of his eyes at his questioner stroked the thick mustache which overshadowed a beard long unrazored and which might for its bristles have done honour to any boar; flattened his arakshin (bonnet) on his head and coolly continued putting away his tools in their bag