“It is well for him he slept through the day, and just now on the wagon; but do thou, soldier, pound through the night with the last breath of thy horse and thyself!”
“There is an inn eighty rods distant,” said the soldier who had ridden ahead. “I thought to find him there, but no! I listened, trying to hear the horse—Nothing to be heard. The devil knows where he is!”
“We will stop at the inn anyhow,” said the sergeant. “We must let the horses rest.”
In fact they halted before the inn. The soldiers dismounted. Some went to knock at the door; others untied bundles of hay, hanging at the saddles, to feed the horses even from their hands.
The prisoners woke when the movement of the wagon ceased.
“But where are we going?” asked old Stankyevich.
“I cannot tell in the night,” answered Volodyovski, “especially as we are not going to Upita.”
“But does not the load from Kyedani to Birji lie through Upita?” asked Pan Yan.
“It does. But in Upita is my squadron, which clearly the prince fears may resist, therefore he ordered Kovalski to take another road. Just outside Kyedani we turned to Dalnovo and Kroki; from the second place we shall go surely through Beysagoli and Shavli. It is a little out of the way, but Upita and Ponyevyej will remain at the right. On this road there are no squadrons, for all that were there were brought to Kyedani, so as to have them at hand.”
“But Pan Zagloba,” said Stankyevich, “instead of thinking of stratagems, as he promised, is sleeping sweetly, and snoring.”