their mail coats and dresses were plain, and stretching far away might be seen the black tops of their sheepskin caps. Two Cossacks rode in front of the Zaporoghian ranks, one of them quite young, the other somewhat elderly; both biting in words, and not bad Cossacks in deeds also: Okhreim Nash and Nikita Golokopytenko. Close behind them rode Demid Popovich, a thorough Cossack, who for a long time had rambled about the Ssiecha, had been before Adrianople, and had had much to endure in his lifetime: he had been burned in fire, and had run back to the Ssiecha with his head covered with tar and blackened by the flames and his mustachios singed off.[33] But once more had Popovich regained his health, his crown-lock curled once more behind his ear, his mustachios had grown again, thick and black as pitch, and biting were his caustic speeches. "The dresses of the army are fine enough, but I should like to know if the courage of the army is as fine?" "I'll have you all tied up!" cried the stout colonel from the walls; "give up your guns and horses, ye boors! Have ye seen how I have bound your comrades? Let the Zaporoghian prisoners be brought upon the battlements!" And the Zaporoghians, tied with ropes, were brought upon the walls; in front of all was to be seen the koorennoï ataman Khleeb, without trowsers or any other dress, in the same state as that in which he had been made prisoner in his sleep. And downwards he bent his head, ashamed of being seen naked by the Cossacks, and of having been made prisoner while sleeping, like a dog. In one night his strong head had turned gray. "Cheer up, Khleeb! we'll set thee free!" cried the Cossacks from below. "Cheer up, friend!" cried the koorennoï ataman Borodatyi: "no fault of thine if they took thee naked; misfortune may happen to any one; but shame be upon them that they make a show of thee without so much as hiding thy nakedness!" "Ye seem to be brave warriors against sleeping men?" said Golokopytenko, looking towards the wall. "Let us take our time, and we'll shave your crown-locks for you!" cried those from above. "I should like to see you shave our crown-locks!" said Popovich, making curvets with his steed; then, looking at the Cossacks, he resumed: "After all, the Poles may be right; should the big-bellied one there bring them out of the town, they would have a good defence!" "And why dost thou think they would have a good defence?" said the Cossacks, guessing that Popovitch meant some fun. "Simply, because behind his back the whole of the army might remain concealed, and no spear on earth could ever reach them across his belly." The Cossacks roared with laughter, and many nodded their heads, saying, "Well! Popovich, when he chances to say something funny, why, then"--but they did not add what happened _then_.