but before it could spread its wings the bleeding head bent and quivered.

‘That’s how one should do it!

’ said Lukashka, throwing down the pheasant. ‘It will make a fat pilau.’

Nazarka shuddered as he looked at the bird.

‘I say, Lukashka, that fiend will be sending us to the ambush again tonight,’ he said, taking up the bird. (He was alluding to the corporal.) ‘He has sent Fomushkin to get wine, and it ought to be his turn. He always puts it on us.’

Lukashka went whistling along the cordon.

‘Take the string with you,’ he shouted.

Nazirka obeyed.