And Kraft pushed through our midst, rushed up to Trosenko, and, grasping his hand, shook it with remarkable feeling. "Yes, we can say that we have had all sorts of experiences here," he continued. "In '45 you must have been there, captain? Do you remember the night of the 24th and 25th, when we camped in mud up to our knees, and the next day went against the intrenchments? I was then with the commander-in-chief, and in one day we captured fifteen intrenchments. Do you remember, captain?" Trosenko nodded assent, and, pushing out his lower lip, closed his eyes. "You ought to have seen," Kraft began with extraordinary animation, making awkward gestures with his arms, and addressing the major. But the major, who must have more than once heard this tale, suddenly threw such an expression of muddy stupidity into his eyes, as he looked at his comrade, that Kraft turned from him, and addressed Bolkhof and me, alternately looking at each of us. But he did not once look at Trosenko, from one end of his story to the other. "You ought to have seen how in the morning the commander-in-chief came to me, and says, 'Kraft, take those intrenchments.' You know our military duty,--no arguing, hand to visor. 'It shall be done, your Excellency,'[28] and I started. As soon as we came to the first intrenchment, I turn round, and shout to the soldiers, 'Poys, show your mettle! Pe on your guard. The one who stops I shall cut down with my own hand.' With Russian soldiers you know you have to be plain-spoken. Then suddenly comes a shell--I look--one soldier, two soldiers, three soldiers, then the bullets--vz-zhin! vz-zhin! vz-zhin! I shout, 'Forward, boys; follow me!' As soon as we reach it, you know, I look and see--how it--you know: what do you call it?" and the narrator waved his hands in his search for the word. "Rampart," suggested Bolkhof. "No.... _Ach!_ what is it? My God, now, what is it?... Yes, rampart," said he quickly. "Then clubbing their guns!... hurrah! ta-ra-ta-ta-ta! The enemy--not a soul was left. Do you know, they were amazed. All right. We rush on--the second intrenchment. This was quite a different affair. Our hearts poiled within us, you know. As soon as we got there, I look and I see the second intrenchment--impossible to mount it. There--what was it--what was it we just called it? _Ach!_ what was it?" ... "Rampart," again I suggested. "Not at all," said he with some heat. "Not rampart. Ah, now, what is it called?" and he made a sort of despairing gesture with his hand. "_Ach!_ my God! what is it?" ... He was evidently so cut up, that one could not help offering suggestions. "Moat, perhaps," said Bolkhof. "No; simply rampart. As soon as we reached it, if you will believe me, there was a fire poured in upon us--it was hell." ...