The second officer, speaking in French, drawled, ‘Don’t make a scene, Kirchoff.’
Jack looked at this second man. He was a tall, handsome, but sinister-looking fellow, with fair hair and moustache. He was dressed in a Hussar uniform all crimson, elaborately laced with gold. A dark-green fur-lined cloak, fastened at the neck with a gold clasp, hung down to his spurred heels, while a black busby with a tall green plume adorned his head. His uniform was almost new, and he looked a great dandy. He was smoking a choice cigarette, and as he daintily knocked off the ash Jack noticed that several rings glittered on his long white fingers.
Hearing him speak French, Jack burst out in an indignant tone. ‘I am a British soldier, captured bearing arms, and I demand the same treatment from you that we extend to Russian prisoners of war! I have been treated worse than a dog or a spy!’
The crimson Hussar shrugged his shoulders as though the matter were of no importance to him.
‘You are Captain Kirchoff’s prisoner, not mine,’ he said, stirring the fire with the end of his sword-scabbard.
The Cossack captain, whose name appeared to be Kirchoff, jabbered for a few moments at Jack in Russian; then two troopers seized him and again bound him to his tree. Some black bread and onions and some raw spirit were, however, given to him, and, one of his hands being freed, he ate heartily.
Kirchoff and the Hussar, mounting, rode off, and as they passed Jack the latter said to the Cossack, ‘You might as well hang the poor devil at once as let him be frozen to death.’
And during that terrible night such seemed likely to be Jack’s fate. In the biting blast his threadbare clothes froze on his body, while the snow fell and half-covered him. He ached to the very bones, and had he been left where he was the whole night must of a certainty have been frozen to death. The men who had captured Jack, though, had to go out to relieve their companions. These on their return stamped round the blazing fire for a minute; then, seeming more humane than their comrades, they undid Jack’s bonds, tying only his legs, and bringing him near to the blazing fire, laid him down, covering him with a sheepskin. One man gave him a drink of vodka, and the fiery spirit, though it made Jack cough and splutter, probably saved his life.
Sometimes dozing, sometimes half-delirious, Jack passed the hours till dawn. The picket was again relieved, and the same men who had captured Jack were again enjoying an off-duty spell.
The Cossacks prepared breakfast, which they disposed of, and lit their pipes, offering Jack nothing. He was wondering how long he would have to endure his present treatment, when the galloping of horses was heard. Several men dashed up to the fire, and one, dismounting, made straight for Jack, bending down and looking in his face. He gave way to an exclamation of annoyance, then said a few words in haughty tones.