"Yes, there are still some to beat you dogs!" exclaimed he, attacking the officer. Then how they fought! Both had their breastplates and shoulder-pieces bent by the weight of their blows. The cursed Pole cut through his foe's coat of mail, and his blade penetrated to the very flesh; the Cossack's mail-coat was reddened with blood, but Sheelo paid no attention to it; down went his sinewy arm (heavy was that mighty arm!), and its blow stunned his foe, and Sheelo went on hacking and hewing to pieces his insensible foe. "Do not hack him thus, Cossack; 'twere better to turn round!" The Cossack did not turn round, and on the spot one of the dead officer's servants plunged his knife into Sheelo's throat. Sheelo turned, and would have caught his murderer, but he was already lost in the smoke. From every quarter the guns were now firing. Sheelo staggered, and felt that his wound was mortal; he fell on the ground, put his hand on his wound, and turning to his comrades, said: "Fare ye well, gentlemen brother-comrades! May the orthodox Russian country for ever last, and may its glory endure for ever!" And he closed his weakened eyes, and away flew the Cossack's soul out of his hard body. Meantime Zadorojni led his Cossacks into the fight; the koorennoï ataman Vertykhoist was breaking the enemy's ranks, and Balaban was advancing. "How now, gentlemen!" said Tarass, summoning the atamans of the koorens, "is there still powder in the horns? is not the Cossack's strength yet faint? do not the Cossacks give way?" "There is still powder in the horns, father; the Cossacks' strength is not yet faint; the Cossacks do not yet give way."