“At command!” answered the sergeant, striving not to show his delight. They rode on together. The road was long, for they had to go around by forests, so as not to fall into Boguslav’s hands; but Kmita and Soroka slept a hundred fold, and came to the Tartars without any accident. Akbah Ulan presented himself at once before Babinich, and gave him a report of his activity. Pan Andrei was satisfied. Every bridge had been burned, the dams were cut; that was not all, the water of springtime had overflowed, changing the fields, meadows, and roads in the lower places into muddy quagmires. Boguslav had no choice but to fight, to conquer or perish; it was impossible for him to think of retreat. “Very well,” said Kmita; “he has good cavalry, but heavy. He will not have use for it in the mud of to-day.” Then he turned to Akbah Ulan. “You have grown poor,” said he, striking him on the stomach with his fist; “but after the battle you will fill your paunch with the prince’s ducats.” “God has created the enemy, so that men of battle might have some one to plunder,” said the Tartar, with seriousness. “But Boguslav’s cavalry stands in front of you.” “There are some hundreds of good horses, and yesterday a regiment of infantry came and intrenched itself.” “But could they not be enticed to the field?” “They will not come out.” “But turn them, leave them in the rear, and go to Yanov.” “They occupy the road.” “Then we must think of something!” Kmita began to stroke his forelock with his hand: “Have you tried to steal up to them? How far will they follow you out?” “A furlong, two,—not farther.” “Then we must think of something!” repeated Kmita. But that night they thought of nothing. Next morning, however, Kmita went with the Tartars toward the camp lying between Suhovol and Yanov, and discovered that Akbah Ulan had exaggerated, saying that the infantry was intrenched on that side; for they had little ditches, nothing more. It was possible to make a protracted defence from them, especially against Tartars, who did not go readily to the attack of such places; but it was impossible for men in them to think of enduring any kind of siege. “If I had infantry,” thought Kmita, “I would go into fire.” But it was difficult even to dream of bringing infantry; for, first, Sapyeha himself had not very many; second, there was no time to bring them. Kmita approached so closely that Boguslav’s infantry opened fire on him; but he did not care. He rode among the bullets and examined, looked around; and the Tartars, though less enduring of fire, had to keep pace with him. Then cavalry rushed out and undertook to flank him. He retreated about three thousand yards and turned again. But they had ridden back toward the trenches. In vain did the Tartars let off a cloud of arrows after them. Only one man fell from his horse, and that one his comrades saved, carried in.