“Vassil, is that you?“
“I,“ said Pan Longin, quietly.
“Have you gorailka?“
“I have.“
“Give me some.“
Pan Longin approached.
“Why are you so tall?“ asked the voice, in tones of terror.
Something rustled in the darkness. A scream of “Lor--!“ smothered the instant it was begun, came from the mouth the picket; then was heard the crash as it were of broken bones, heavy breathing, and one figure fell quietly to the earth. Pan Longin moved on.
But he did not pass along the same line, for it was evidently a line of pickets; he turned therefore a little nearer to the tabor, wishing to go between the pickets and the line of wagons. If there was not another line of pickets, Pan Longin could meet in that space only those who went out from camp to relieve those on duty. Mounted patrols had no d
