Pulling his horse in with an angry jerk close alongside Phil’s captor, Stackanoff—for it was none other than he—glared at him, and in a harsh voice, and with many an oath, snarled: “How is this, Vilnoff! What do you mean? Are these cursed prisoners then to ride upon his majesty’s horses? Come off, you Englishman!” and, dropping his reins, he stretched out his hand, and, clutching Phil by the shoulder, hurled him to the ground.
It was not very far to fall, but Phil came an undoubted cropper, and the sudden and unlooked-for jar, and a yell of derision which rose from the Cossack ranks at the sight, set his blood aflame still more, for he had not yet shaken off the excitement of the recent battle. His eyes flashed angrily, and, picking himself up, he was within an ace of throwing himself upon the brutal Stackanoff when better counsels prevailed.
The Cossack commander eyed him suspiciously, and then, with a malicious glance at Vilnoff and the remark, “You, beast that you are, I will deal with you to-morrow,” dug his spurs into his horse with such force that the animal sprang forward so suddenly as to upset the unhappy English officer and drag him along the ground.
“Come, get up, you weak-kneed fool,” cried Stackanoff, striking at the poor fellow with his riding-whip.
It was a brutal act, and even the Cossack horsemen were ashamed of it. As for Phil, a blind and unreasoning rage seized him, and, dragging the lasso-noose over his head, he sprang at the Russian, and, lifting him like a child from the saddle, threw him heavily on the ground and stood over him, ready to knock him down if he should try to rise, or treat any other in a similar manner who dared to interfere with him.
“Hurrah, well done, Phil, old boy!” came an excited bellow from the Cossack ranks; and next moment Tony, who was there, a prisoner, had torn the rope which held him from the hands of the man who was in charge of him, and, aiming blows right and left with his fists, rushed forward and joined Phil.
To say that there was a clamour in the camp is to describe the scene mildly. For a moment the horsemen were too astonished to move; then, recovering from their surprise, they lowered their murderous-looking lances, and would undoubtedly have run all three prisoners through, had not another officer ridden into the circle at that moment.
He was a tall, dark man, with heavy features and a settled look of depression on his face. Mounted on a magnificent horse, and bearing the badges of a staff-officer, there was no doubt that he was a person of no little importance and authority.
“What is the meaning of this?” he demanded, quietly looking round with a cold and gleaming eye, which showed that though outwardly calm he was more than angry at the incident. “These are prisoners, by their uniform, and one an officer too. Do we then murder captives taken in battle? Does our august master, the Czar, will it that we should take the lives of gallant Englishmen in cold blood? Answer me, dogs! Whose doing is this?” And, slowly glancing round the circle, he fixed the men with his eyes, each one trembling in his turn and feeling relieved when his scrutiny was finished.
Then Vilnoff, who had remained close beside Phil all the time, turned in his saddle and humbly told the officer what had happened.