t is getting dark already, so I expect the troops will soon be halting.
Lend a hand, both of you, and we'll splice this break, and catch the
regiment up later on."

"You'll have to unload first, mate," Tony answered. "This weight is too
much for one horse to keep up while we're mending, and besides, we'll
get the job done in half the time if we take 'em both out and empty the
cart."

Accordingly all three set to work and lifted the heavy boxes out. Then
the horses were unharnessed, and with a length of rope and a batten of
wood a shift was made to mend the break.

"That will do, I think," said Phil at last, surveying the work with
satisfaction. "Now in with the animals, and let us get along as quickly
as possible. We must be a couple of miles behind the troops, but
fortunately the road is clear, and though it is a dark night we ought to
reach them without trouble."

Once more they set out on the road, and were congratulating themselves
on the fact that they were close to the camp, when Tony called a halt.

"What are them coves over there?" he asked, pointing ahead to a
collection of camp-fires, in front of which mounted figures were
flitting. "If them ain't Russians, I'm a Frenchie."

"They look remarkably like Cossacks, I must say, Tony," replied Phil
anxiously. "Stop here a few moments while I go forward and make
certain."

In another minute he had disappeared in the darkness. Walking boldly
forward for three hundred yards he then judged it wise to observe some
caution, and, stooping low, crept forward on the turf at the roadside,
which completely muffled his footsteps. Suddenly a figure loomed up in
front of him, followed by another, and, flinging himself on the ground,
Phil crawled behind a growth of low bush and hastily hid himself from
view.

"There, Petroff," he heard a harsh voice say in Russian, "that is your
post. Remain there till you are relieved. If these pigs of Englishmen
advance this way gallop back and warn us. See that you do not sleep, my
man, or as the Czar, our master, lives, I will hang you to the nearest
tree."

"Excellency, your orders shall be obeyed," the Cossack trooper answered
humbly, and then, as his officer rode off, swore in a low but audible
voice.

"Hang me to the nearest tree!" he muttered angrily. "Ah! Will he!
Wait, your most noble excellency. Who knows how soon a bullet shall put
an end to your threats, and should it come from behind instead of from
these