“Walk,” said Simon, the ever practical, and in truth it was the only thing they could do.
“Good for you,” Van Ryn exclaimed, patting him on the shoulder with one large hand while with the other he picked up the rifle and the strap of Simon’s rucksack. His cheerful face showed no hint of his quick realization that the pace of the party must be that of the slowest member, or his anxiety as to how many hours it would be before Simon’s frail physique gave out under the strain. He only added: “Come on, let’s beat it.”
De Richleau collected his things more slowly. “Yes,” he agreed, “we must walk — at least, until we can buy or steal horses. But which way?”
“To Romanovsk,” said Rex. “That way’s as easy as any other, and I’d sure like to have a cut at those jewels before I go back home.”
“As you wish.” The Duke gently removed the ash from his cigar. “We have had no time to tell you our own adventures, Rex, but there is one little episode which makes me particularly anxious to avoid capture.”
“Give me that sack and let’s hear the worst,” Rex remarked casually, as he slung the Duke’s rucksack over his shoulder next to Simon’s.
“My dear fellow, you can’t carry two!” De Richleau protested, “particularly after having driven all night.”
“I certainly can,” Rex assured him. “I’d carry a grand piano if I felt that way, but I’ll give ’em back quick enough if I get tired, don’t you worry. Let’s hear just how you blotted your copybook!”
“An agent of the Ogpu followed us as far as Sverdlovsk. If his body should chance to be discovered, and we are captured, it might prove a little difficult to explain,” said the Duke mildly.
Rex whistled. “You gave him the works, eh? Great stuff; but if that’s so, they’ll not be content to put us behind the bars this time; it’ll be we three for the high jump!”