was in debt to every one in the Syech, and stole like a common street thief, to boot. He carried off a complete kazák equipment from another kurén, by night, and pawned it to a dram-shop keeper. For this dishonourable act they bound him to a post in the bazaar, and laid a club by his side, so that every one, according to the measure of his strength, might deal him a blow. But there was not one Zaporozhetz out of them all to be found who would raise the club against him, remembering his former services. Such was the kazák, Mosii Shilo.
"Here are some who will kill you, you dog!" he said, springing upon him. And how they hacked away! their shoulder-plates and breast-plates bent beneath the blows. The hostile Lyakh cut through his shirt of mail, reaching the body itself with his sharp blade; the kazák's shirt was dyed crimson; but Shilo heeded it not, flourished his muscular hand (heavy was that mighty fist), and brought it down unexpectedly on his head. The brazen helmet flew off, the Lyakh reeled and fell; but Shilo went on hacking and making crosses on the stunned man. Kill not utterly thine enemy, kazák! turn back rather! The kazák turned not, and one of the dead man's servitors plunged a knife into his neck. Shilo turned, and almost succeeded in seizing the daring man, but he
