Just feel it!' And lifting his shirt he showed his powerful back, where just near the bone a bullet could be felt and rolled about.
'Feel how it rolls,' he said, evidently amusing himself with the bullet as with a toy.

'There now, it has rolled to the back.' 'And Lukashka, will he recover ?' asked Olenin.
'Heaven only knows! There's no doctor.

They've gone for one.' 'Where will they get one?
From Groznoe ?' asked Olenin.

'No, my lad.
Were I the Tsar I'd have hung all your Russian doctors long ago.
Cutting is all they know! There's our Cossack Baklashka, no longer a real man now that they've cut off his leg! That shows they're fools.
What's Baklashka good for now?
No, my lad, in the mountains there are real doctors.

There was my chum, Vorchik, he was on an expedition and was wounded just here in the chest.