"Surely?" inquired Blake incredulously.
"I am certain of it," continued the Russian. "They are some of the prisoners whom the Huns have sent from their concentration camps to work in their trenches on this front. These Germans have a saying, 'Scratch a Russian and you will find a Tartar.' The whole civilised world can now very well say, 'Show me a Hun and I will show you a brute.'"
Nearer and nearer marched the ragged regiment, proceeding along a road that led about a quarter of a mile from the hillock on which Blake and his companions were standing.
"Let us go and give the poor fellows a bit of a welcome," he suggested, to which the Russian officer agreed.
Suddenly, to his comrades' surprise, Athol broke into a run and made straight for the advancing men. His sharp eyes had discovered a tall, attenuated figure at the head of the column. In spite of the grey beard, the hollow cheek, and bent shoulders the lad recognised his father. Not so Colonel Hawke; he never expected to find his son, a tall strapping youth in the uniform of an officer of the Royal Flying Corps, on this remote corner of Russian soil.
When at length the colonel grasped the situation, he could only gasp in speechless wonderment, while Athol shook his hands as if they were a couple of pump-handles.
The rest of the released prisoners, numbering half a dozen British and French officers, and about four hundred men, halted, broke ranks, and crowded round the rest of Blake's party, filled with delight at the sight of the well-known uniforms once more.
At the same time a Russian regiment on its way to the captured positions halted. The troops with characteristic kindness were soon offering their water-bottles, rations and tobacco to their starving allies.
"It has been simply hell," declared Athol's father, after he had recovered from the surprise that had all but rendered him speechless with emotion. "Those swine of Germans compelled our poor fellows to slave in their first-line trenches. Our spirit was broken by hunger and exhaustion. We would have welcomed a Russian shell, but even that was denied us. They pushed us into dug-outs and mine galleries, and kept us there for three days without food. Thank heaven, though, the boys kept their end up pretty well. At least three large mines failed to explode as the Russians stormed the first line trenches, and I think I know why. We tampered with the wires."
"We have a motor-car which is at your disposal, Colonel Hawke," said the Russian officer responsible for the safety of the British airmen. "It will indeed be an honour to offer you hospitality."