ous, and silent process of gliding
towards his unconscious victim.

This was one of those ventures to which we have referred as being afoot
on that foggy night. The other venture had some points of similarity to
it, though the end in view was different.

Let us turn aside for a little to the Turkish camp.

There, round one of the watch-fires, a considerable distance to the
rear, stood a group of Turkish soldiers chatting and smoking. Although
not so noisy as the Russians round their camp-fires, these Turks were by
no means taciturn. There was a touch, now and then, of dry humour in
the remarks of some, and a sedate chuckle occasionally. Among them
stood Eskiwin and his resuscitated friend Ali Bobo. The latter,
although not naturally boastful, had been so nettled by a big comrade
underrating his courage and muscular power, in regard to which latter
he, Bobo, was rather vain, that he vowed he would prove both by going to
the front and bringing in, single-handed, a live Russian sentinel!

The big comrade laughed contemptuously, whereupon Ali Bobo rose to carry
out his threat, but was warned by his mates of the danger of being shot
by his own commander for going on such an errand without leave. Bobo
replied that his captain would forgive him when he presented his Russian
prisoner. As it was clear that the angry little man was in earnest, his
friend Eskiwin vowed he would go with him, and the big comrade agreed to
regard the deed as a sufficient proof of Ali Bobo's strength and prowess
if a Russian should be brought in by the two of them. Bobo would have
preferred to go alone, but Eskiwin would take no denial.

Accordingly the two adventurous fellows went off and were soon lost in
the fog. In a short time they reached the front, and began to move with
excessive caution in order to pass their own sentries unobserved.

Ali Bobo, it must be remarked, had not originated this idea of stalking
sentinels. Some Albanians in the army had already done so with great
success; but these ferocious murderers had done it for the mere pleasure
of killing their enemies, without any other end in view. Their method
was to creep towards a wearied sentinel, which they did with comparative
ease, being expert mountaineers. Each man on reaching his victim sprang
on him from behind, clapped a hand on his mouth, crushed his neck, after
the manner of garrotters, with his strong left arm, and drawing a long
keen knife thrust it into his