before him, as if on the palm of his hands, lay the steppe and the fortress, and to the left, quite close under the mountain-side, camp-fires were burning and smoking, and people were standing round the smouldering logs.
He gazed fixedly, and saw cossacks—soldiers—and glistening arms.
Zhilin, full of joy, rallied his last remaining strength, and prepared to descend the mountain-side.
"God grant," thought he, "that a mounted Tatar may not see me in the open plain, although I'm pretty near now, I'm not there yet."
And the thought was no sooner in his head, when behold! on a little mound stood three Tatars, about two furlongs off. They saw him—and dashed after him. His heart absolutely died away within him. Then he waved his arms and shouted with all the breath he had in his body:
"My brothers! my brothers! save me!"
Our fellows heard him, and some mounted Cossacks galloped forward. They made for him in an oblique direction to cut off the Tatars.
The Cossacks were far off, the Tatars were near, but now Zhilin rallied all his strength, seized his kolodka, and ran towards the Cossacks, no longer remembering who he was, but crossing himself and crying continually:
"Brothers! brothers! brothers!"
The Cossacks were about fifteen in number.
The Tatars grew frightened—instead of drawing nearer they reined in their horses. And Zhilin ran right into the Cossacks,
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