This, however, Jack was by no means willing to do. He had a very great respect for the beautiful but imperious girl, but he did not want to meet her in her mother’s house again. He fancied she might renew her persuasion that he should transfer to the Russian army, and somehow—he hardly liked to confess it to himself—she exercised more will-power over him than he cared to own. So he pleaded fatigue, and they passed the night at the farm.
Next morning, Jack mounted on a splendid horse the count had brought, and Linham on Sergius’s mount, they started, and in glorious weather rode on, crossing the Katcha and the Belbec, skirting the Russian division in the Korales Valley, and eventually reaching the Tractir Bridge.
Here the count halted. ‘It will not be safe for me to go farther,’ he said, ‘or I may find you and I have changed places.’
‘And I fear I should have much more difficulty in procuring your release than you did mine,’ said Jack.
With mutual good wishes, Jack sending very kind messages to the countess and Irma, he shook hands with the count, and Linham saluted. They dismounted, and were going to cross the bridge on foot; but the count stayed them.
‘I want you both to accept the horses you ride,’ he said, ‘as a present to two gallant soldiers whom I only regret having met as enemies instead of as comrades.’
Jack was really touched at this new proof of kindness, and when they had parted he sat for some time watching the figure of the gallant count as he trotted away.
He and Linham then crossed the bridge and soon met an English picket, who stared in open-eyed astonishment at the nondescript pair. The soldiers were healthy, well-fed, rosy-looking English lads in smart scarlet tunics, wearing good boots, their appointments being bright and clean. The sergeant, who had come from England but a few months ago, and knew of the winter misery only by hearsay, heard with astonishment that the two before them were English prisoners of war. They were taken to the officer commanding the picket, who was equally astonished, but who, at their request, passed them on to the cavalry camp.
Presently they saw the rows of tents and the horse lines. Then lance-flags were seen fluttering, and a party of Lancers passed them. Jack and Linham stared in astonishment. All the men were smart, clean, and well clothed and booted. Even their uniforms were changed; the tunics had a white, turned-back facing.
‘These must be the 17th,’ said Jack; ‘look at the skull and cross-bones.’