I promised to do so, and galloped off towards the sound of the fighting. On my way I passed a long string of wounded men making their way back to the ambulance, and was able to stanch their bleeding in many cases, and place them in a better condition for continuing their journey. Presently I came across several dead men, and the shells began to fly about. As I advanced farther the numbers of the dead increased, and the bodies of several Russians among the Turks marked the spot where the fighting had been hand-to-hand. Soon I saw the Russian camp about a mile away. It consisted of a number of little wooden huts on a slight slope in front of the village of Pelischat, and there were a good many tents as well. I could see the Turkish troops engaged; but as I came up to them, they were beginning for the second time to fall back under a hot fire from the Russians. The country was very open, and lightly timbered, with here and there a few beeches and walnut trees, under which little groups of wounded men were resting on their way to the rear. It was plain that the Russians had recently occupied the ground which our troops at this moment were holding, for lying on the plain were many wounded Russians who had been left behind when their regiments fell back, and those hapless creatures received short shrift from the irregular troops fighting under the Turkish flag. One instance of the savagery with which the conflict was conducted I witnessed personally; and though it shows the Turkish irregulars in very lurid colours, I can vouch for the performance of similar and even worse atrocities on the part of the Cossacks a few days later. As I was looking at the firing and wondering how much longer our men would be able to hold the advantage which they had gained, I saw a Circassian, with a most diabolical expression on his face, stooping down to pluck some of the long grass that grew there abundantly and wiping his _camer_, or short sharp sword, upon it. I rode up to see what he was doing, and found that he had just cut the head off an unfortunate wounded Russian. The headless trunk, still quivering with muscular contractions, lay on the ground at his feet, and he was holding up his horrid trophy by the hair.