Besides seven or eight scars and slashes, his ribs on one side were all twisted out of shape, and a part of one of his calves had been torn away.

He laughed in his merry way when he saw my face of wonder.
"Cossacks! Cossacks!" said he, running his hand over his scars.
"And the ribs were broke by an artillery tumbril.

It is very bad to have the guns pass over one.

Now with cavalry it is nothing.

A horse will pick its steps however fast it may go.