So far no alarm had come from the prison, showing that the attack on the man with supper had not yet been discovered. It continued to rain furiously, wetting them to the skin. But they only prayed that the downpour might continue.
“Where are we getting to now, Gilbert?” questioned Ben, after they had covered the best part of a mile.
“We’re coming to the outskirts of the town, I reckon. The houses if you’ll notice, are further apart.”
“Keep your eyes open then, for the Russians may have a picket guard out.”
“No doubt they have, and I am watching as hard as I can.”
Presently another flash of lightning showed them a small barn, and two horses inside, saddled and ready for use.
“Wait!” cried Ben, clutching his chum by the arm. “Wait! I have an idea.”
He led the way into the barn. Nobody was present, and he felt the animals, to find them thoroughly dry.
“They have not been out and they must, therefore, be fresh,” said he. “Shall we take them? We can go a good many miles on them before daybreak.”
“Yes, we’ll take them, Ben. And see, there are some military cloaks on yonder pegs. Let us take two of them also.”