The Elk Mountain pilot., 1917-01-18

German battle line, is the scene of
the most tragic chapter in GogoPs
great novel. "T'aras Bulba," Which
tells of the invasion of Poland in
the fifteenth century by the Cos
sacks of the. Dnieper.
OF all the mad fighters in the Cos
sack horde that besieged the Polish
stronghold of Dubno, none was so gal
liant as were the two sons of Taras
Bulba, the famous leader of the
Ukraine. His great nostrils expanded
with pride when they darted against
the Polish cavalry, lashing their beau
tiful horses like devils.
They We're Garbed like birds of war.
Their multifold trousers, wide as the
Black sea and upheld with golden
girdles, were thrust into boots of GRIM
son leather with silver heels and
spurs. Magnificently wrought Turkish
pistols and knives We're stuck in en-
broidered sashes that belted the fam
ing red coats. Long, gaudy thongs
with tassels held the bags that con-
tanned their Indispensable pipes and
smoking materials. Their crooked
swords were immense, and on their
handsome heads they wore tall, black
caps of lambs wool with ornaments
of scarlet and gold.
Taras Bulba almost wept into his
brandy as he boasted with tremendous
oaths of their deeds. Hardly he knew
which he loved the more-the fierce
but wise Ostap or the headlong,
thoughtless, wholly reckless Andreas.
Dubno held out desperately, though
the people were starving. Dawn came
to 1T with the silence of death,-for
there was not rooster left to crow
in all the land. The only animals alive
were the warhorses. Even Dubnos
the last one.
One night Andreas learned from n
spy that the beautiful daughter of the
governor of Dubno was perishng in
her palace. He had met her once, and
since that meeting her picture had
been bright in his wild heart. With
out pausing to reflect, he gathered pro-
visions secretly and stole into the be-
leaguered city.
When he found her he forgot the
Ukraine. She was most beautiful,
even in that land of beautiful Polish
women. In her black eyes burned the
flames Of romance and intelligence.
Over ravlshing white neck and noble
shoulders fell hair that n king would
have begged to kiss.
Her fiery soul sprang to meet the
fiery soul of the Cossack. When she
swayed toward him and sobbed of the
sorrows of her people, her low, sweet
voice shook the mans passionate spirit
as wind shakes the reeds of a river.
"Whnt care l for father and father
land?" he cried. holding out his strong
arms. II will have none, none. none
except thee! Who says that the
Ukraine Is my country? Thou, thou
art my country For thee l toss away
everything; for thee / will die!"
A moment she stared at him, STILL
frozen, wondrous marble image.
Then she fell into his waiting arms
and her scented hair enwrapped his
head like n shining silken net.
The next day old Taras Bulba lay
in the grass and tore at 1t while he
cried out, on heaven and hell. A mes
senger had come to him with this word
from his son:
"My father no longer is my father,
my brother no more my brother, my
comrades no more my comradesl Be-
tween them and me is war-war with
them all, all"
1t was as If the accession of An
droas had brought fortune to the
Poles. A relief expedition broke
through the Cossack ring and reprovi-
stoned the city. Thereafter the
strengthened defenders made furious
sortie after sortie and Cossacks and
Poles did each other to death daily
under the walls with cannon and long
guns, swords and clubs, lassos and
spears. Day after ray the indomitable
Polish men and women, even the chill
dren, cried defiance from their walls
and sped insults ut their besiegers.
Day after day the Cossacks dashed
close and vaunted: sour swords are
not yet dull, our powder horns not
yet empty, and our hearts not yet
wearyl''
There came day of sortie and
battle most great and bitter. Taras
Bulba, roaring and slashing in the
thick of it, saw gallant band of
Polish hussars break suddenly into the
strife. Mounted on glorious red Per-
sian horses, they drove forward fear
fully and hewed a road that was of
of death. Bravest and most murder
Gus of all was their leader, tall
youngster, who wore a gorgeous scarf,
plainly woman's gift for battle.
Brood of the devil. ~ screamed Ia
ras Bulba, recognizing his son An
dreas. Get me that onel'' he COM
mopded his mon "T ura him into vnp-