XIX
Here, a rough surprise awaited them. They were bundled off the train without ceremony by a transport officer, whose temper was so bad that the memory of Nicolai Petrovitch Ketov was pleasant in comparison.
"Off with you!" he shouted. "We're not going to a party. This is war."
"But we were put in charge of this train by the transport officer at the last camp," protested Ostap.
"The devil take the train. I've got wounded to send off."
"Then what are we to do?" asked Ian.
"Hang yourselves," was the polite reply and the officer turned on his heel.
The fugitives, standing in an indignant little group on the platform, hustled by the many passers-by, turned to Ostap. He was a soldier and ought to help them out of their new predicament.
"What next?" asked Ian, voicing the thought of his followers.
"God knows." He looked round at the multitude of races who jostled and cursed and shouted and implored. "If only I could see a Cossack I might get some information. But all the tribes of the Empire seem to be here except ours."