"If there's really to be war, I suppose they'll take every horse that's able to work at all, whether it's a good looking beast or not.

Poor horses! They don't have much chance, I guess." He thought of the Cossacks he had seen in Russia, wiry, small men, in the main, mounted on shaggy, strong, little horses, no bigger in reality than ponies.

He had heard of the prowess of the Cossacks, of course.
They had fought well in the past in a good many wars.

But somehow it seemed rather absurd to match them, with their undersized horses, against magnificent specimens of men and horseflesh such as the German cavalry.

He had passed a squadron of Uhlans, near Virballen, outlined against the sky.