“And the worst of it is too, Tony, that if we are found with this dead man we shall be accused of having killed him. I have it. We’ll hoist him to the loft again, and place the other fellow alongside him. Then we’ll take up our quarters there. If we are discovered we can make a good fight for it, and if the farmer comes in search he may think his unwelcome visitors have left the shed to investigate some other spot and will return to his house.”
Tony looked at his friend as if to say, “Well, you’re a good ’un,” and, without venturing on a remark, stepped to the wall and returned with the traces which had already served as a rope. One of these was buckled round the dead man, and the other trace attached. Then both climbed into the loft and hoisted their burden after them. Another trip and the still unconscious figure of their enemy Petroff was dragged up beside them. The harness was returned to its peg, and with a hasty glance round to make sure that there was nothing about the shed to show that a struggle had taken place within it, Phil and Tony climbed into the hay-loft and sat down to regain their breath and rest after their exertions.
Two hours passed almost in silence, when Phil suddenly slapped his knee and gave a sharp exclamation of delight.
“We’ll reach our friends yet, old man,” he said enthusiastically. “I’ve thought the whole thing over and have decided what to do. At first I imagined that our best way would be to relieve these gentlemen of their clothing in exchange for ours. But it would not do. If we were captured it would mean a file of muskets at six in the morning, for we should certainly be condemned as spies.”
Tony grunted hoarsely, showing that he had a decided dislike to this arrangement.
“But though we do not take their clothes, we will make free with their swords and ponies,” continued Phil, “and so soon as it is dark we will get away from this. By riding at night, and making allowances for the wide détours we shall be compelled to undertake, we should reach our friends in three days at most. We have still a large piece of meat left, and with that and the bread that remains, and an occasional drink of water, we must be satisfied. Now we’ll secure this fellow. Slip down and get some of that harness, like a brick, will you, Tony?”
That evening, soon after dusk had fallen, two stealthy figures crept from the shed, and stole towards the outhouse in which the Cossack ponies were kept. The door was only latched, and, waiting merely to slip on the bridles and tighten the girths, the two adventurous Englishmen vaulted into the saddle and rode out into the night. They were not gone many minutes when the farmer, wondering at the prolonged absence of the Cossacks, and having seen them turn their ponies into the shed, came to see if the animals were still there, and, finding them gone, returned in anything but a pleasant mood to his house.
“Those two brutes are gone, wife,” he said testily. “They have not even thanked us for our hospitality, nor paid for the vodka which they drank. May it kill them then is all that I wish!”
Had he but known it, his unkind thought had already been partially accomplished, for in his hay-loft one of the Cossacks lay dead, a victim indeed to the fiery spirit, while the second, destined for many days to be sick in his house, and demand careful nursing and feeding at his expense, reclined, unconscious, in a heap of straw, bound hand and foot, but left ungagged, a circumstance of which he took advantage early in the morning by screaming for help at the top of his voice.
Once more returning to the post-road, Phil and Tony rode along it quietly, only the jangle of their Cossack swords breaking the silence. Three hours later a line of watch-fires in the distance told them that they were approaching the Russian field-army, and warned them to find some safe hiding-place.