The pope made his way into the house, conjuring the frightened people to lend him their assistance. A couple of torches were lighted and reluctant help was given. Matters outside were not quite so bad as Father Leo had anticipated. Five only were lying there, more or less severely wounded: four villagers and one of the hussars. The latter evidently was in the worst plight, a bullet, in an almost hand-to-hand encounter, had gone through his shoulder. Father Leo saw to him first, ordering him to be moved into the inn. An old man was attended to next, he had a sabre-cut on his forehead. The other three were women who had fallen beneath the hoofs of the horses, but were not badly hurt.
Leo set himself to bind up the wounds as well as he could, aided by Avrumko and Maxym Bobra, a soldier on furlough; and while they were thus occupied the troop of horsemen were heard returning. A trumpet sounded. "The signal for dismounting," whispered Maxym to the pope, and almost immediately the door of the inn parlour was flung open. The officer entered, followed by some half-dozen of his men.
"Bring out torches and some faggots!" he cried to the innkeeper, turning to give a look at the wounded.
The pope met him. "Captain," he said modestly, "it might be well to send a messenger to Zablotow, the doctor is badly needed."
"Got our own surgeon," was the gruff reply; and, having given orders for the military Esculapius to attend, the officer stood over the wounded soldier.
"Nice sort of 'curiosity' this on the part of your peaceful sheep," he said, presently. But Father Leo forbore answering, busying himself about the sufferers.
The surgeon entered, examined the wounds, and prepared to dress them. "The peasant will get over it," he said; "but this man of ours will hardly do so, a bullet having pierced his lung."
"Then the churls shall pay for it, by Jove!" returned the officer with rising passion; "and so shall you, sir pope--you have deceived me!"
Leo looked him in the face quietly. "I shall be ready to answer for anything to-morrow," he said; "I will now go along the village street--there may be other sufferers."
The captain somehow felt disarmed. "You are bleeding yourself, your reverence," he said more gently, almost abashed.