pulled off the loose piece of leather, and threw it on the fire.
“Right enough, friend,” said he, and, having sat down, took out of his knapsack a scrap of blue French cloth, and wrapped it round his foot. “It’s the steam that spoils them,” he added, stretching out his feet toward the fire.
“They’ll soon be issuing us new ones. They say that when we’ve finished hammering them , we’re to receive double kits!”
“And that son of a bitch Petróv has lagged behind after all, it seems,” said one sergeant major.
“I’ve had an eye on him this long while,” said the other.
“Well, he’s a poor sort of soldier. …”
“But in the Third Company they say nine men were missing yesterday.”
“Yes, it’s all very well, but when a man’s feet are frozen how can he walk?”
“Eh? Don’t