"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 is my guide?"
"Seelim—Jee!" shouted Joe, and the old gentleman who had visited McKay that morning came ambling up from the cellar below.