It was ever the same boundless, waving, beautiful steppe.
Only at intervals the summits of distant forests shone blue, on one hand, stretching along the banks of the Dnieper.

Once only did Taras point out to his sons a small black speck far away amongst the grass, saying, "Look, children! yonder gallops a Tatar." The little head with its long moustaches fixed its narrow eyes upon them from afar, its nostrils snuffing the air like a greyhound's, and then disappeared like an antelope on its owner perceiving that the Cossacks were thirteen strong.

"And now, children, don't try to overtake the Tatar! You would never catch him to all eternity; he has a horse swifter than my Devil." But Bulba took precautions, fearing hidden ambushes.

They galloped along the course of a small stream, called the Tatarka, which falls into the Dnieper; rode into the water and swam with their horses some distance in order to conceal their trail.

Then, scrambling out on the bank, they continued their road.
Three days later they were not far from the goal of their journey.