r yourself?" asked Joe, carelessly;
but there was a glitter in his eyes which gave a deep meaning to the
simple question.

"Why not?" said McKay, whom the look had escaped. "It is well worth
the risk."

"I'll help you, if you like," went on Joe, with the same outwardly
unconcerned manner.

"Can you? How?"

"Very easy to pass lines. You put on Tartar clothes same as that old
man go to you to-day. He live near Tchorgaun; he take you right into
middle of Russian camp."

"When can he start?" asked McKay eagerly, accepting without hesitation
all the risks of this perilous undertaking.

"To-night, if you choose. Come down here by-and-by; I have everything
ready."

McKay agreed, and returned to headquarters in all haste, where he
sought out his chief and confided to him his intentions.

"You are really prepared to penetrate the enemy's lines? It will be a
daring, dangerous job, McKay. I should be wrong to encourage you."

"It is of vital importance, you say, that we should really know what
the enemy is doing beyond the Tchernaya. I am quite ready to go, sir."

"Lord Raglan--all of us--indeed, will be greatly indebted to you if
you can find out. But I do not like this idea of the disguise, McKay.
You ought not to go under false colours."

"I should probably learn more."

"Yes; but do you know what your fate would be if you were discovered?"

"I suppose I should be hanged, sir," said McKay, simply.

"Hanged or shot. Spies--everyone out of uniform is a spy--get a very
short shrift at an enemy's hand. No; you must stick to your legitimate
dress. I am sure Lord Raglan would allow you to go under no other
conditions."

"As you wish, sir. Only I fear I should not be so useful as if I were
disguised."

"It is my order," said the general, briefly; and after that there was
nothing more to be said.

McKay spent the rest of the afternoon at his usual duties, and towards
evening, having carefully reloaded his revolver, and filled his
pockets with Russian rouble notes, which he obtained on purpose from
the military chest, he mounted a tough little Tartar pony, used
generally by his servant, and trotted down to the hut-town.

Valetta Joe heard with marked disapprobation McKay's intention of
carrying out his enterprise without assuming disguise.

"You better stay at home: not go very far like that."

"Lend me a _greggo_ to throw over my coat, and a sheepskin cap, and I
shall easily pass the Cossack sentries. Where i