In a moment three of them burst into the house, from off the road where they were being raked now by the Tartars from both directions, cursing violently.

One of them shot at our host.

He stumbled along and fell on his knee, as his hand reached out toward the rifle under his pillows.
"Who are YOU ?" brutally blurted out one of the soldiers, turning to us and raising his rifle.

We answered with Mausers and successfully, for only one soldier in the rear by the door escaped, and that merely to fall into the hands of a workman in the courtyard who strangled him.
The fight had begun.

The soldiers called on their comrades for help.
The Reds were strung along in the ditch at the side of the road, three hundred paces from the house, returning the fire of the surrounding Tartars.