"They'll need more than ever now," he thought to himself. "If there's
really to be war, I suppose they'll take every horse that's able to work
at all, whether it's a good looking beast or not. Poor horses! They
don't have much chance, I guess."
He thought of the Cossacks he had seen in Russia, wiry, small men, in
the main, mounted on shaggy, strong, little horses, no bigger in reality
than ponies. He had heard of the prowess of the Cossacks, of course.
They had fought well in the past in a good many wars. But somehow it
seemed rather absurd to match them, with their undersized horses,
against magnificent specimens of men and horseflesh such as the German
cavalry. He had passed a squadron of Uhlans, near Virballen, outlined
against the sky. They had been grim and business-like in appearance. But
then the Cossacks were that, too, though in an entirely different way.
"I wish I had someone along!" he thought, at last.
That was when the dawn was beginning to break. Off to the east the sun
was beginning to rise, and in the grey half light before full day there
was something stark and gaunt about the country. Before him smoke was
rising, probably from a village.
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