Zagloba, coming out on the porch, cast his eye on the drinking crowd, then looked carefully at the sky.
"Clear, but dark," he muttered; "when the moon goes down you might strike them in the face, they wouldn't see you.--Go on, my boys," he cried, "go on! Don't spare yourselves; your teeth won't grow stiff. A fool is he who won't drink to-day to the health of his ataman! Go on with the barrels! Go on with the girls! U-ha!"
"U-ha!" shouted the Cossacks, joyfully.
Zagloba looked around on every side.
"Oh, you wretches, rogues, good-for-nothings!" shouted he, all at once; "you drink yourselves like horses after a journey, but to the men on guard around the house not a drop. Hallo there! change the guards for me this minute!"
The order was executed without delay, and in a moment a number of tipsy Cossacks ran to relieve the guards, who up to that time had taken no part in the revelry. They came in at once with a haste easily understood.
"Help yourselves!" cried Zagloba, "help yourselves!" pointing to the barrels.
"We thank you!" answered the Cossacks, dipping in the cups.
"In an hour relieve these for me."
"Very well," said the essaul.