that all who stood near shuddered at that unearthly yell. The Lyakh tried to turn his horse quickly, and face him, but the horse did not obey: frightened by the terrible cry, it sprang aside, and the Lyakh received Kukubenko's fire. The hot ball struck him in the shoulder-blade, and he rolled from his horse.
But even then the Lyakh did not surrender: he still strove to deal his enemy a blow, but his hand grew weak and fell with his sword. Then Kukubenko, taking his heavy sword in both hands, thrust it into his mouth, already grown pallid. The sword, breaking out two teeth, cut the tongue in twain, pierced the windpipe, and penetrated deep into the ground; and so he pinned him there forever to the damp earth. His noble blood, scarlet as viburnum berries beside the river, welled up in a fountain, and stained his yellow, gold-embroidered kaftan. But Kukubenko had already left him, and was forcing his way, with his Nezamaikovsky kurén, towards another group.
"Eh, he didn't appropriate those splendid accoutrements!" said Borodaty, atamán of the Umansky kurén, leaving his men and going to the place where lay the nobleman slain by Kukubenko. "I've killed seven nobles with my own hand, but such accoutrements I have never beheld on any one." And, tempted by greed, Borodaty bent
