It
was Dobri Petroff.

"Have you seen your servant Lancey?" he asked quickly.

"No. I had intended to ask if you knew anything about him when the
beginning of this carnage drove him and everything else out of my mind.
Do you know where he is?"

"I saw him not five minutes since, looking wildly for you."

While Petroff was speaking, Lancey appeared, running towards me,
bloodstained, blackened with powder, and with a rifle on his shoulder.

CHAPTER TWENTY ONE.

MORE OF THE RESULTS OF WAR.

I need not trouble the reader with an account of the meeting with my
faithful servant. While we were still engaged in questioning each
other, I noticed that the countenance of our friend the scout wore an
anxious and almost impatient expression.

"Anything wrong, Dobri?" I inquired.

"God knows!" he replied in a solemn tone, which impressed me much. "A
rumour has come that the Circassians or the Bashi-Bazouks--I know not
which, but both are fiends and cowards--have been to Venilik, and--"

He stopped abruptly.

"But that village was in the hands of the Russians," I said, at once
understanding his anxiety.

"It may be so, but I go to see without delay," he replied, "and have
only stopped thus long to know if you will go with me. These brutes
kill and wound women and children as well as men. Perhaps your services
may--Will you go?"

He spoke so earnestly, and his face looked so deadly pale, that I felt
it impossible to refuse him. I was much exhausted by the prolonged
labours of the day, but knew that I had reserve strength for an
emergency.

"Give me a few minutes," said I,--"just to get leave, you know. I can't
go without leave."

The scout nodded. In ten minutes I had returned. Meanwhile, Lancey had
prepared my horse and his own. Swallowing a can of water, I vaulted
into the saddle. It was very dark, but Petroff knew every foot of the
country. For several hours we rode at a smart gallop, and then, as day
was breaking, drew near to Venilik. As we approached, I observed that
the bold countenance of the scout became almost pinched-looking from
anxiety. Presently we observed smoke against the sky, and then saw that
the village had undoubtedly been burned. I glanced at Petroff
nervously. There was no longer a look of anxiety on his face, but a
dark vindictive frown.

He increased his pace to racing speed. As we followed close at his
heels, I observed that he drew a knife from his belt, and with th