and very like his mother. His face and whole build, in
spite of the angularity of youth, indicated great strength, both
physical and moral. Though he had only lately joined the Cossacks at
the front, it was evident from the expression of his face and the calm
assurance of his attitude that he had already acquired the somewhat
proud and warlike bearing peculiar to Cossacks and to men generally who
continually carry arms, and that he felt he was a Cossack and fully
knew his own value. His ample Circassian coat was torn in some places,
his cap was on the back of his head Chechen fashion, and his leggings
had slipped below his knees. His clothing was not rich, but he wore it
with that peculiar Cossack foppishness which consists in imitating the
Chechen brave. Everything on a real brave is ample, ragged, and
neglected, only his weapons are costly. But these ragged clothes and
these weapons are belted and worn with a certain air and matched in a
certain manner, neither of which can be acquired by everybody and which
at once strike the eye of a Cossack or a hillsman. Lukashka had this
resemblance to a brave. With his hands folded under his sword, and his
eyes nearly closed, he kept looking at the distant Tartar village.
Taken separately his features were not beautiful, but anyone who saw
his stately carriage and his dark-browed intelligent face would
involuntarily say, 'What a fine fellow!'

'Look at the women, what a lot of them are walking about in the
village,' said he in a sharp voice, languidly showing his brilliant
white teeth and not addressing anyone in particular.

Nazarka who was lying below immediately lifted his head and remarked:

'They must be going for water.'

'Supposing one scared them with a gun?' said Lukashka, laughing,
'Wouldn't they be frightened?'

'It wouldn't reach.'

'What! Mine would carry beyond. Just wait a bit, and when their feast
comes round I'll go and visit Girey Khan and drink buza there,' said
Lukashka, angrily swishing away the mosquitoes which attached
themselves to him.

A rustling in the thicket drew the Cossack's attention. A pied mongrel
half-setter, searching for a scent and violently wagging its scantily
furred tail, came running to the cordon. Lukashka recognized the dog as
one belonging to his neighbour, Uncle Eroshka, a hunter, and saw,
following it through the thicket, the approaching figure of the hunter
himself.

Uncle Eroshka was a gigantic Cossack with a broad, snow