"Do you know what we shall do with them—with all these patriots?"
"Drive them together somewhere and sabre them," suggests the sotnik.
"So that they can fill the newspapers again with their tale of martyrdom," laughs Gabriel Gabrilovitch, scornfully. "Beware, Little Brother, beware! We shall leave that to their countrymen this time."
The blank eyes of the Cossack follow the colonel questioningly—like the eyes of a hunting dog.
"So," laughs the latter, softly stroking his cheek. "We'll drive these patriots to the Austrian wire entanglements. What do you think? Will those people over there shoot down their own subjects?"
"But they are non-combatants, Gabriel Gabrilovitch——"
The young man suppressed the thought before he had put it into words. There was something in the voice of his superior which cowered him. And, like a hunting dog, he merely listened.
"Don't you see, Little Brother?" continues Gabriel Gabrilovitch, rubbing his hands together with satisfaction. "And just because in that case they will not fire, we shall rush in on the enemy. We shall have cover and can excuse ourselves for using it."
"It would take the devil himself to think of that!" exclaims the sotnik, full of submissiveness and admiration.