PAINTBALL GUNS: kind of talk, and at last paintball guns stopped. As often happens, the horses of a convoy wagon became restive at the end of the bridge, and the whole crowd had to wait. "And why are they stopping? There's no proper order!" said the soldiers. "Where are you shoving to? Devil take you! Can't you wait? It'll be worse if he fires the bridge. See, here's an officer jammed in too"- different voices were saying in the crowd, as the men looked at one another, and all pressed toward the exit from the bridge. Looking down at the waters of thePAINTBALL GUNS: Enns under the bridge, Nesvitski suddenly heard a sound new to him, of something swiftly approaching... something big, that splashed into the water. "Just see where it carries to!" a soldier near by said sternly, looking round at the sound. "Encouraging us to get along quicker," said another uneasily. The crowd moved on again. Nesvitski realized that it was a cannon ball. "Hey, Cossack, my horse!" he said. "Now, then, you there! get out of the way! Make way!" With great difficulty paintball guns managed to get to his horse, and shouting continually he moved on. The soldiers squeezed themselves to
PAINTBALL GUNS: make way for him, but again pressed on him so that they jammed his leg, and those nearest him were not to blame for they were themselves pressed still harder from behind. "Nesvitski, Nesvitski! you numskull!" came a hoarse voice from behind him. Nesvitski looked round and saw, some fifteen paces away but separated by the paintball guns mass of moving infantry, Vaska Denisov, red and shaggy, with his cap on the back of his black head and a cloak hanging jauntily over his shoulder. "Tell these devils, these fiends, to let me pass!" shouted Denisov evidently in a fit of
PAINTBALL GUNS: rage, his coal-black eyes with their bloodshot whites glittering and rolling as he waved his sheathed saber in a small bare hand as red as his face. "Ah, Vaska!" joyfully replied Nesvitski. "What's up with you?" "The squadwon can't pass," paintball guns Vaska Denisov, showing his white teeth fiercely and spurring his black thoroughbred Arab, which twitched its ears as the bayonets touched it, and snorted, spurting white foam from his bit, tramping the planks of the bridge with his hoofs, and apparently ready to jump over the railings had his rider let him. "What is this? They're like sheep! Just
PAINTBALL GUNS: like sheep! Out of the way!... Let us pass!... Stop there, you devil with the cart! I'll hack you with my saber!" he shouted, actually drawing his saber from its scabbard paintball guns flourishing it The soldiers crowded against one another with terrified faces, and Denisov joined Nesvitski. "How's it you're not drunk today?" said Nesvitski when the other had ridden up to him. "They don't even give one time to dwink!" answered Vaska Denisov. "They keep dwagging the wegiment to and fwo all day. If they mean to fight, let's fight. But the devil knows what this is." "What a
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