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Sometimes through the monotonous waves of men, like a fleck of

white foam on the waves of the Enns, an officer, in a cloak and

with a type of face different from that of the men, squeezed his

way along; sometimes like a chip of wood whirling in the river,

an hussar on foot, an orderly, or a townsman was carried through

the waves of infantry; and sometimes like a log floating down the

river, an officers' or company's baggage wagon, piled high,

leather covered, and hemmed in on all sides, moved across the

bridge.

"It's as if a dam had burst," said the Cossack hopelessly. "Are

there many more of you to come?"

"A million all but one!" replied a waggish soldier in a torn

coat, with a wink, and passed on followed by another, an old man.

"If he" (he meant the enemy) "begins popping at the bridge now,"

said the old soldier dismally to a comrade, "you'll forget to

scratch yourself."

That soldier passed on, and after him came another sitting on a

cart.