“Well, someone must ride over to the Chief of Artillery,” said the captain to me in a grave and authoritative tone, “to ask whether we are to reply to the shots or not. We can’t hit anything, but we can shoot for all that. Be so good as to go and ask. Order a horse to be saddled, you’ll get there quicker; take Polkan, if you like.”

Five minutes later the horse was brought, and I started to find the Chief of Artillery.

“Mind, the watchword is pole ,” whispered the careful captain, “or you’ll not be allowed to pass the cordon.”