“What won’t?” asked Tony brusquely. “It ain’t over nice, I know, but I can’t see that anything’s extra wrong.”
“Where do you think we are marching to, Tony?” asked Phil. “You don’t know. Then I’ll tell you. We are going due north, out of the Crimea and into some part of the Russian interior. Once there, what chance shall we have of ever getting back?”
“There you puzzle me, Phil,” Tony answered, scratching his head. “I suppose it’s a long way off.”
“Yes, a long way, Tony; but that is not the difficulty. The weather is on the point of changing, and soon we shall have rain and snow. We must get away within the next few days or not at all, so keep your eyes open for the first chance that comes along.”
“Trust me, mate,” whispered Tony, unconsciously dropping his voice. “I don’t want to spend the next year or so in a Russian prison. A month’s been enough for me. But it’ll be a job to get away from these fellows: and what shall we do for food once we are free?”
“That we must chance, Tony. The main thing is to get safely away, and, of course, we must make the attempt when it is dark. To-night our guards, knowing we are close to the allied camp, will be extra watchful, but a couple of nights later, when we are well on the way, and the Russian field-army is between us and our friends, they are certain to become slack and careless about keeping a watch. That will be our time, and we must make the best of it. There are plenty of small farmhouses scattered about this part of the Crimea, for it is famous for its vineyards, and if the worst comes to the worst, we must break into one and obtain food in that way. In any case there are grapes to be had in abundance.”
Having agreed that it was useless to attempt an escape for two days or more, and that it was unnecessary to inform their comrades of their intentions—for where two might chance to slip away, it was hopeless for fifty or more to make the attempt,—Phil and Tony marched on stolidly. Amongst the prisoners were Riflemen, Guards, and Highlanders, some slightly wounded, and all more or less in a tattered and forlorn condition, for head-gear had been for the most part lost, and the bright red of tunics had long ago been dulled by lying on the dirt and mud.
That night they pressed on, and halted only when the field-army was reached. Then they bivouacked and waited till the following day, when the march was resumed in a leisurely manner, the guards, however, still keeping careful watch over their prisoners, while the fierce and restless Cossacks rode their shaggy ponies on either flank and kept a scowling eye on the captives.
Phil and Tony saved some portion of their meal of bread daily, cramming it into their pockets. But it was not till the third night that they dared to attempt an escape.
“Keep an eye on those Cossack fellows as we bivouack, Tony,” said Phil in an undertone, as the column came to a halt. “They are the ones we have most to fear. Up to this, I notice that half of them have nightly gone out as pickets, ready to cut off any escape, while the others have camped alongside us. If only we can see the positions the outposts take up, and get away from here without rousing an alarm, we ought to be able to hide up in some vineyard.”