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Though the orders were to abandon the wounded, many of them

dragged themselves after troops and begged for seats on the gun

carriages. The jaunty infantry officer who just before the battle

had rushed out of Tushin's wattle shed was laid, with a bullet in

his stomach, on "Matvevna's" carriage. At the foot of the hill, a

pale hussar cadet, supporting one hand with the other, came up to

Tushin and asked for a seat.

"Captain, for God's sake! I've hurt my arm," he said timidly.

"For God's sake... I can't walk. For God's sake!"

It was plain that this cadet had already repeatedly asked for a

lift and been refused. He asked in a hesitating, piteous voice.

"Tell them to give me a seat, for God's sake!"

"Give him a seat," said Tushin. "Lay a cloak for him to sit on,

lad," he said, addressing his favorite soldier. "And where is the

wounded officer?"

"He has been set down. He died," replied someone.

"Help him up. Sit down, dear fellow, sit down! Spread out the

cloak, Antonov."