“Don’t you hear how he is firing now? No shelter anywhere! It is frightful how many of our men _he_ has killed!” added the speaker, making a gesture, and straightening up his cap. The soldier on his travels pensively shook his head, clacked his tongue, took his short pipe out of its box, stirred up the half-burned tobacco with his finger, lighted a bit of tinder from the pipe of a comrade who was smoking, and lifting his cap, said, “There is no one but God, gentlemen. We say good-by to you;” and putting his knapsack in place, went his way. “Ah! it is better worth while to wait,” said the watermelon eater, with tone of conviction. “It is all the same,” murmured the soldier, settling the knapsack on his back, and worming his way between the wheels of the halted carts. III. At the station for horses Koseltzoff found a crowd of people, and the first figure he perceived was the postmaster in person, very young and very thin, quarrelling with two officers. “You will not only wait twenty-four hours but ten times twenty-four hours. Generals wait too,” he said, with the evident wish to stir them up in a lively manner. “And I am not going to hitch myself in, you understand!” “If this is so, if there are no horses, they can’t be given to any one. Why, then, are they given to a servant who is carrying baggage?” shouted one of the two soldiers, holding a glass of tea in his hand. Although he carefully avoided using personal pronouns, it could easily be guessed that he would have liked to say thee and thou to his interlocutor. “I want you to understand, Mr. Postmaster,” hesitatingly said the other officer, “that we are not travelling for our pleasure. If we have been summoned it is because we are necessary. You can be sure I will tell the general, for it really seems as if you have no respect for the rank of officer.” “You spoil my work every time, and you are in my way,” rejoined his comrade, half vexed. “Why do you talk to him about respect? You have to speak to him in another manner. Horses!” he suddenly shouted, “horses, this instant!” “I wouldn’t ask better than to give them to you, but where can I get them? I understand very well, my friend,” continued the postmaster, after a moment of silence, and warming up by degrees as he gesticulated, “but what do you want me to do? Let me just”--and the officers’ faces at once had a hopeful expression--“keep soul and body together to the end of the month, and then I won’t be seen any longer. I would rather go to the Malakoff than remain here, God knows! Do what you like--but I haven’t a single wagon in good condition, and for three days the horses haven’t seen a handful of hay.” At these words he disappeared. Koseltzoff and the two officers entered the house. “So!” said the elder to the younger with a calm tone, which strongly contrasted with his recent wrath. “We are already three months on the road. Let’s wait. It is no misfortune; there isn’t any hurry.”