e in the brush, and that they would
shoot without waiting to make sure. But he had to take the chance, and
he minimized the risk as much as he could by tying his white
handkerchief to a stick and carrying it before him as he pushed his way
into the ditch.

He waved this as he emerged. At first no one saw him. Then a Cossack
spied him and sent his horse straight at him. Fred leaped aside as he
saw that the man meant to ride him down, and, shouting, waved his white
flag. He dodged the first assault, but the Cossack spun his pony around
in little more than his own length, and waving his dangerous lance, came
at him again. He shouted again, and waved his white flag harder than
ever. That would not have saved him, however, but just as the Cossack
lunged and Fred threw himself down, sure that he would either be speared
or trampled by the horse, an officer dashed up and struck up the lance
with his sword.

"Don't you see the white flag?" he roared. "We do not kill men who
surrender!"

"They say that the Germans are hanging every Cossack they capture," said
the man, sullenly.

"Never mind what they say!" said the officer. "Hello! That man is not a
soldier at all!"

"Neither soldier nor German!" cried Fred in Russian, springing up.
"Those Uhlans were chasing me! I have just escaped from the German
lines. I did not think that I should fare as badly among my friends as
among the enemy!"

"Nor shall you, friend!" said the Russian officer with a laugh. "So you
are a Russian? Well, you look as if you might be anything!"

"I'm afraid I do," said Fred, a bit ruefully. He could imagine, even
though he could not see himself, that the Russian was quite right. He
was caked with dirt. In the fall from the automobile, as he had
discovered while he was walking away from the wreck, he had sustained a
nasty cut over the eye, which, though it was not painful, had bled a
good deal. And this had made his appearance even worse than it had been
before. His clothes were torn, too.

"Who are you, and where do you come from?" asked the Russian.

In a few words Fred told his story. When he said that he had left Boris
Suvaroff a prisoner at the culvert, with a broken leg, the officer
started.

"Can't you go after him?" Fred pleaded. "They have very few men there.
You could sweep them away."

"Not with this force. And I should not dare to go so far without special
orders," said the officer. "We could not charge the culvert, and,
approachin