A hoarse challenge broke suddenly on his musings, and a darker blur on the road just in front resolved itself into half a dozen horsemen. They had heard his horse's hoofs, and waited in silence to see who came.
He had pulled the hood of his fur coat right up over his busby, and the heavy folds covered him almost down to the feet. He decided in a moment that safety lay in silence, so he rode straight on, waved a hand to the doubtful Cossacks, and was past Telegraph Hill before they had done discussing him.
He wondered if Maxse had met them and how he had fared.
An hour later he forded the Katcha and turned down the valley towards the sea. Boats were still plying between the sandy beach and the ships. The Jacks eyed him for a moment with suspicion, but gave him jovial welcome when they found that only his outer covering was Russian.
Lieutenant Maxse had just been put aboard the Agamemnon, he found, and a minute or two later he was following him. So Jim had the pleasure of steaming past the sea-front of Sebastopol to Balaclava Bay, where they found the ancient little fort on the heights bombarding the British army with for tiny guns.
They brought it to reason with half a dozen round shot, and presently steamed cautiously in round the awkward corners, and dropped anchor opposite the house where Lord Raglan had taken up his quarters.
[CHAPTER XLIX]
AMONG THE BULL-PUPS
And now force of circumstances left the cavalry stranded high and dry, with nothing to do but range the valley now and again in quest of enemies who never showed face, and growl continually at the untowardness of their lot.
They had indeed had little enough to do so far, but always in front of them had been the hope of active employment and its concomitant rewards. But what use could cavalry be in a siege? And had they lived through all those hideous months at Varna, and come across the sea only to repeat them outside Sebastopol? They grizzled and growled, and expressed their opinions on things in general with cavalier vehemence.