The sight of a burly, black-bearded Russian of forbidding aspect, half-maddened moreover by drink, rushing at one's hiding-place, is calculated to inspire the bravest with trepidation, and in the case of Phil and Tony it can be recorded, without fear of their incurring the epithet of coward, that both were more than a little alarmed for their safety. But they were in a cage--in an extremely tight corner without doubt--and, rendered desperate by the knowledge, and that recapture meant, if not death, certainly ill-treatment, they determined to make a light for it. "Silence him at all costs," Phil whispered rapidly. "Let him pull the door open, and then drag him in. I leave it to you to silence him, Tony." "Ay, I'll do that, never fear," was the hurried answer in a tone which showed that though a handkerchief as a gag had possibly occurred to the gallant Tony as a method, yet he knew of other and surer means. A second later the handle was wrenched open, and the door flew back with a bang, while the Cossack almost fell into the carriage. There was a swish and a sounding crash, and he flopped into the hay limply, stunned by a heavy blow from Tony's club, which, had it not been for the thick astrakhan hat the Russian wore, would have settled his fate there and then. His helpless body was instantly dragged into the corner and a hurried consultation held. "We've got to fix up that other chap," said Tony grimly. "Now his pal's gone the fat's in the fire." "No doubt about it, Tony," agreed Phil. "We must silence both. Let us get out and wait near the door for the other fellow. We can leave this man for the present, for that crack you gave him will keep him quiet for a time." Tony chuckled. "And he was the chap as was going to tie us up and whop us!" he said, with huge enjoyment. "He was going to give us a taste of the rope! He shall have some himself soon, but for the present the dose of stick will suit him." Shaking his club at the unconscious man, he followed Phil out of the carriage and closed the door. Both crawled beneath the cart till close to the niches down which the Russian must climb, and waited eagerly for his appearance. But there was not a sound above, and nothing but the certainty that he had ascended to the loft to convince them that he was there still. "What has happened to him?" asked Phil. "Do you think he heard the noise below, and has escaped through the trap-door?" "Not he," Tony answered with assurance. "He's up there, p'r'aps hiding, but most like dead asleep. Listen. Perhaps we'll hear him." There was a minute's silence, when both heard heavy snoring from the loft, and looked at one another, uncertain how to proceed.