not be war."

"There will not be war?" Taras asked again.

"No."

"Then it is no use thinking about it?"

"It is not to be thought of."

"Wait, you devil's limb!" said Taras to himself; "you shall learn to
know me!" and he at once resolved to have his revenge on the
Koschevoi.

Having made an agreement with several others, he gave them liquor; and
the drunken Cossacks staggered into the square, where on a post hung
the kettledrums which were generally beaten to assemble the people.
Not finding the sticks, which were kept by the drummer, they seized a
piece of wood and began to beat. The first to respond to the drum-beat
was the drummer, a tall man with but one eye, but a frightfully sleepy
one for all that.

"Who dares to beat the drum?" he shouted.

"Hold your tongue! take your sticks, and beat when you are ordered!"
replied the drunken men.

The drummer at once took from his pocket the sticks which he had
brought with him, well knowing the result of such proceedings. The
drum rattled, and soon black swarms of Cossacks began to collect like