"Are you still refusing volunteers?"
The Cossack turned sharply.
"Who the devil are you?" was his greeting.
"Do you remember a Polish squire who asked for a commission at the beginning of the war?"
"No," he grunted, drying himself as best he might with a bandana handkerchief he pulled out of his wide trouser-leg. But it was a hopeless business so he gave it up, walking about and waving his arms.
"You said I was too fat."
"You don't look it."
"And too old."
"Older, better men than you are strewing the fields to-night."
"Do you want volunteers now?"