Soon the dust began to shine, as if someone were scattering sparks in the bunches of it; and lights glittered each moment more clearly, like burning candles surrounded with smoke.
“Those are spears gleaming!” cried Pan Michael.
“Troops are coming.”
“Surely some Swedish detachment!”
“With them only infantry have spears; but there the dust is moving quickly. That is cavalry—our men!”
“Ours, ours!” repeated the dragoons.
“Form!” thundered Pan Roh.
The dragoons surrounded the wagon in a circle. Pan Volodyovski had flame in his eyes.
“Those are my Lauda men with Zagloba! It cannot be otherwise!”
Now only forty rods divided those approaching from the wagon, and the distance decreased every instant, for the coming detachment was moving at a trot. Finally, from out the dust pushed a strong body of troops moving in good order, as if to attack. In a moment they were nearer. In the first rank, a little from the right side, moved, under a bunchuck, some powerful man with a baton in his hand. Scarcely had Volodyovski put eye on him when he cried—
“Pan Zagloba! As I love God, Pan Zagloba!”
A smile brightened the face of Pan Yan. “It is he, and no one else, and under a bunchuck! He has already created himself hetman. I should have known him by that whim anywhere. That man will die as he was born.”
“May the Lord God give him health!” said Oskyerko.
Then he put his hands around his mouth and began to call, “Gracious Kovalski! your relative is coming to visit you!”
But Pan Roh did not hear, for he was just forming his dragoons. And it is only justice to declare that though he had a handful of men, and on the other side a whole squadron was rolling against him, he was not confused, nor did he lose courage. He placed the dragoons in two ranks in front of the wagon; but the others stretched out and approached in a half-circle, Tartar fashion, from both sides of the field. But evidently they wished to parley, for they began to wave a flag and cry—
“Stop! stop!”
“Forward!” cried Kovalski.
“Yield!” was cried from the road.
“Fire!” commanded in answer Kovalski.
Dull silence followed—not a single dragoon fired. Pan Roh was dumb for a moment; then he rushed as if wild on his own dragoons.
“Fire, dog-faiths!” roared he, with a terrible voice; and with one blow of his fist he knocked from his horse the nearest soldier.
Others began to draw back before the rage of the man, but no one obeyed the command. All at once they scattered, like a flock of frightened partridges, in the twinkle of an eye.
“Still I would have those soldiers shot!” muttered Mirski.
Meanwhile Kovalski, seeing that his own men had left him, turned his horse to the attacking ranks.
“For me death is there!” cried he, with a terrible voice.
And he sprang at them, like a thunderbolt. But before he had passed half the distance a shot rattled from Zagloba’s ranks.
Pan Roh’s horse thrust his nose into the dust and fell, throwing his rider. At the same moment a soldier of Volodyovski’s squadron pushed forward like lightning, and caught by the shoulder the officer rising from the ground.
“That is Yuzva Butrym,” cried Volodyovski, “Yuzva Footless!”
Pan Roh in his turn seized Yuzva by the skirt, and the skirt remained in his hand; then they struggled like two enraged falcons, for both had gigantic strength. Butrym’s stirrup broke; he fell to the ground and turned over, but he did not let Pan Roh go, and both formed as it were one ball, which rolled along the road.
Others ran up. About twenty hands seized Kovalski, who tore and dragged like a bear in a net; he hurled men around, as a wild boar hurls dogs; he raised himself again and did not give up the battle. He wanted to die, but he heard tens of voices repeating the words, “Take him alive! take him alive!” At last his strength forsook him, and he fainted.
Meanwhile Zagloba was at the wagon, or rather on the wagon, and had seized in his embraces Pan Yan, the little knight, Mirski, Stankyevich, and Oskyerko, calling with panting voice—
“Ha! Zagloba was good for something! Now we will give it to that Radzivill. We are free gentlemen, and we have men. We’ll go straightway to ravage his property. Well! did the stratagem succeed? I should have got you out—if not in one way, in another. I am so blown that I can barely draw breath. Now for Radzivill’s property, gracious gentlemen, now for Radzivill’s property! You do not know yet as much of Radzivill as I do!”
Further outbursts were interrupted by the Lauda men, who ran one after another to greet their colonel. The Butryms, the Smoky Gostsyeviches, the Domasheviches, the Stakyans, the Gashtovts, crowded around the wagon, and powerful throats bellowed continually—
“Vivat! vivat!”
“Gracious gentlemen,” said the little knight when it grew somewhat quieter, “most beloved comrades, I thank you for your love. It is a terrible thing that we must refuse obedience to the hetman, and raise hands against him; but since his treason is clear, we cannot do otherwise. We will not desert our country and our gracious king—Vivat Johannes Casimirus Rex!”
“Vivat Johannes Casimirus Rex!” repeated three hundred voices.
“Attack the property of Radzivill!” shouted Zagloba, “empty his larders and cellars!”
“Horses for us!” cried the little knight.
They galloped for horses.
Then Zagloba said, “Pan Michael, I was hetman over these people in place of you, and I acknowledge willingly that they acted with manfulness; but as you are now free, I yield the command into your hands.”
“Let your grace take command, as superior in rank,” said Pan Michael, turning to Mirski.
“I do not think of it, and why should I?” said the old colonel.
“Then perhaps Pan Stankyevich?”
“I have my own squadron, and I will not take his from a stranger. Remain in command; ceremony is chopped straw, satisfaction is oats! You know the men, they know
