For some time I was kept here on the edge of a forest, and had leisure to observe a General directing a battle. Messengers came hot-foot from all directions, and were dismissed as quickly as they came; at times the General would bellow his orders into the telephone, and his deep voice would boom through the forest. It was all so curious, because of the actual fighting we saw and heard nothing. It was like blindfold chess. Most interesting of all was a device for transporting the wounded--a litter was bound to two horses ridden by Cossacks, and slung so as to hang from the head of the fore horse and the hindquarters of the rear one. It was very low, and nothing could have been smoother or freer from jolting. Our wounded men were put into springless carts, and they suffered unspeakable agonies from being bumped about on the rutty, uneven roads. Here, at any rate, we could have learned something from the Russians. [SN: COSSACKS] The next day the prisoners were gathered together, and we fell into the hands of the Cossacks. They began by making gestures as if they intended to cut our throats, and by pointing to the trees as if they were going to hang us. One of us burst into tears; but a Jew who could speak German explained that they were only having a joke with us. They were so bitter at the “dirty lies” the Germans spread about their cruelty that they thought a little fun of this sort allowable. A Russian, they added, never hits a man when he is down. Some hours afterwards they asked the man why he had cried, and he showed himself no fool. He said it was because he was so hungry. The Cossacks immediately busied themselves about us, brought us water to wash with, made us tea, gave us so much supper that we could not have eaten any more, rolled us cigarettes, and--greatest compliment of all--sometimes took the half-smoked cigarette out of their own mouths and put it into ours. Late at night we set off again, and the Cossacks, as they sat their horses, with their black caps and their long black mantles flowing in the moonlight, made a figure of romance that seemed to carry us out of Europe into Asia. It took me straight back to the Middle Ages, and I thought I saw the soldiers of Saladin or Genghis Khan again. In their wild, careless ways they were unlike any troops I had ever known. As horsemen they were far superior to the German or Austrian cavalry. I have seen them race their horses at full speed in and out among the trees of the forest--a manœuvre which requires a touch as delicate as it is certain, because even a slight error would lead to their brains being dashed out. And I know of no other cavalry capable of doing it. [SN: WITH THE RUSSIANS]