A Gallant Grenadier: A Tale of the Crimean WarBrereton, F. S. (Frederick Sadleir)
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A Gallant Grenadier: A Tale of the Crimean War
Brereton, F. S. (Frederick Sadleir)
Crimean War, 1853-1856 -- Juvenile fiction
"I seem to remember some kind of house along this way," muttered Tony,
trying to recall the spot. "Yes, I'm sure of it, and it's away over
there, half a mile or more, I should think;" and he stretched his arm
and pointed to the right.
"Then we'll try to find it," said Phil with decision. "There is nothing
else for it, and we cannot be in a worse spot than we occupy now. I
blame myself for not having kept a better watch on our surroundings as
we passed along the road with our escort. That Cossack has ridden away
a little, so now is our time; we'll strike straight across, and trust to
luck. We haven't time to pick roads, for it will be dawn in another
hour. If they come over here they are certain to see our footmarks, but
no doubt we shall get on to grassy land soon, and that will throw them
off the scent."
Standing up for a few moments, to make sure that no enemy was near, they
plunged into the fields and walked steadily on for an hour; but still no
house was in sight. Half an hour later, when they were almost in
despair, and when a faint flush in the east and a waning of the pale,
silvery gleams of the moon heralded the approach of dawn, they caught
sight of some outbuildings on their left, and were hurrying towards
them, when Phil suddenly saw some ghostly-looking horsemen issuing from
behind them, and clutching hold of Tony, dragged him forcibly into a
narrow ditch which he was in the act of crossing.
"What's up?" asked Tony, somewhat nettled; but Phil's whispered reply,
"Cossacks! Hush!" appeased him.
The ditch was half-filled with water, but a thorough sousing is
preferable to captivity, and the two companions squeezed still closer
into it, wedging themselves into its slime and mud, and thrusting their
bodies as far as possible beneath the long grass and reeds which sprang
from its bank, for a hasty glance and approaching sounds told them that
the Russians would probably pass close at hand. Five minutes later
their voices were audible, and a series of splashes and thuds told them
that they had leapt the ditch a few yards higher up.
"They are not there, and you have led us a fine goose-chase!" Phil
heard one of the Russians angrily exclaim. "What made you take us on
such a fool's errand, Petroff?"
"It is no fool's errand," another voice replied gruffly. "I distinctly
saw two figures cross the land beyond. They are not at the farm, that
is clear; but we shall catch them, and then they shall suffer. Pigs
that all Englishmen are! I myself will tie them to a wheel and thrash
them before their comrades. It will be a good example, and our master
the Czar would approve of it."
The speakers passed on, and Phil hastily interpreted what he had
overheard.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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