"Uncle, you an old warrior and can say such things! If they were beaten they would come back to us in small groups."
"True! I see thy wit will be of service."
"Do you hear the tramp, Uncle? They are riding slowly. They must have cut the Swedes to pieces."
"Oi, if they are only ours! Shall I go forward, or not?"
Saying this, Zagloba dropped his sabre at his side, took his pistol in his hand, and moved forward. Soon he saw before him a dark mass moving slowly along the road; at the same time noise of conversation reached him.
In front rode a number of men talking with one another loudly; soon the well-known voice of Pan Michael struck the ear of Zagloba. "They are good men! I don't know what kind of infantry they have, but the cavalry is perfect."
Zagloba touched his horse with the spurs. "Ah ! how is it, how is it? Oh, impatience was tearing me, I wanted to fly into the fire! But is no one wounded?"
"All are sound, praise to God; but we have lost more than twenty good soldiers."
"And the Swedes?"
"We laid them down like a pavement."
"Pan Michael, you must have enjoyed yourself as a dog in a spring. But was it a decent thing to leave me, an old man, on guard? The soul came near going out of me, so much did I want Swedish meat. Oh, I should have gnawed them!"
"You may have a roast now if you like, for a number of them are in the fire."
"Let the dogs eat them. And were prisoners taken?"
"A captain, and seven soldiers."
"What do you think to do with them?"
"I would have them hanged, for like robbers they fell on an innocent village and were killing the people. Yan says, however, that that will not do."
"Listen to me, gentlemen, hear what has come to my head just now: there is no good in hanging them; on the contrary, let them go to Birji as soon as possible."
"What for?"
"You know me as a soldier, know me now as a statesman. We will let the Swedes go, but we will not tell them who we are. We will say that we are Radzivill's men, that we have cut off this detachment at command of the hetman,
