At the conclusion of the drill Mongalov called out in a voice resounding with warm approval: "Well done, little brothers, well done. Thank you!" And again, as one man, the company responded: "We were glad to do our best, Your Honor." "Down!" was the next order. All leaped together to the ground. "Rest and smoke," came again, and he and his officers jumped off their own horses and stood together discussing the next drill. The company followed their example, and soon burst into loud talk and laughter, while clouds of smoke arose from pipes and cigarettes. In the meantime I didn't know what to do. I was afraid that if I climbed down I couldn't get up again on my horse, who seemed unusually lively and disobedient to me. But I was not left long in this awkward position, for after a quarter of an hour of rest the Cossacks were again on their horses, every man ready to obey any order. To judge by the alert look on their faces, the most important part of the drill was now to come. Every eye was turned toward their commanding officer as if trying to guess what new trick would be required of them. Mongalov sat on his steed, his right hand twirling his mustache, his eyes directed far down the field as if surveying the distance or estimating the difficulties before his men. Then his voice rang out abruptly: "Company, build _lava_!" These words produced an effect like a discharge of ammunition in the midst of the Cossacks. The horses rushed madly forward and to each side of the center, forming a kind of fan. Only by putting forth the full strength of my arm did I keep my horse in place, the proud animal trying so hard to show that she understood the command. In the wink of an eye the compact body of horses was transformed into a long line of separate riders, stretched so that there was about twenty feet between each. All were still, the men with swords drawn out of their scabbards. Mongalov no longer shouted orders but indicated what was to be done by waving his sword in different directions. As if charmed by its motions, the long line moved, now to the right, now to the left, now forward, now backward. Once Mongalov, evidently dissatisfied, ordered the trumpeter to repeat through the trumpet the order given with the sword. Since that time I have loved the harmonious sounds of the Cossack trumpet which in a very short time I grew to understand as plainly as spoken words.