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left..." A fat major skirted a bush, puffing and falling out of

step; a soldier who had fallen behind, his face showing alarm at

his defection, ran at a trot, panting to catch up with his

company. A cannon ball, cleaving the air, flew over the heads of

Bagration and his suite, and fell into the column to the measure

of "Left... left!" "Close up!" came the company commander's voice

in jaunty tones. The soldiers passed in a semicircle round

something where the ball had fallen, and an old trooper on the

flank, a noncommissioned officer who had stopped beside the dead

men, ran to catch up his line and, falling into step with a hop,

looked back angrily, and through the ominous silence and the

regular tramp of feet beating the ground in unison, one seemed to

hear left... left... left.

"Well done, lads!" said Prince Bagration.