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Next came four soldiers, carrying something heavy on a cloak, and

passed by the fire. One of them stumbled.

"Who the devil has put the logs on the road?" snarled he.

"He's dead-why carry him?" said another.

"Shut up!"

And they disappeared into the darkness with their load.

"Still aching?" Tushin asked Rostov in a whisper.

"Yes."

"Your honor, you're wanted by the general. He is in the hut

here," said a gunner, coming up to Tushin.

"Coming, friend."

Tushin rose and, buttoning his greatcoat and pulling it straight,

walked away from the fire.