Accordingly they waited till the army had got a quarter of a mile away, and then fell in behind. Occasionally stragglers passed them, and once a squadron of horsemen galloped by; but, taking the two solitary figures for scouts, they swept on without a word. An hour later they were beyond the Russian camp and ascending the nek. No one seemed to be about, and they were not challenged. Once over the summit they turned abruptly to the left, and rode down into the valley, keeping close to the heights. But here again another difficulty faced them. Watch-fires twinkled in every direction, some undoubtedly being Russian, and, fearful of falling into the enemy's hands, or what would perhaps be equally bad, stumbling against a French or Turkish outpost, and being shot before an explanation could be given, they once more selected a vineyard and bivouacked there till the day broke, hoping to be able then to make a dash for the British camp. CHAPTER FIFTEEN. BALACLAVA. The dawn of October 25th broke dull and chill. Banks of fog hung over the heights, and the "Valley of the Shadow of Death" lay hidden in mist, as if cloaked already with a funeral pall. Blades of grass and leaves drooped with the added weight of the moisture, and Phil and Tony, crouching in their vineyard, shivered and longed for the sun to rise and bring warmth and cheerfulness. A gentle breeze was blowing, and, freshening, it soon cleared the fog away, while the mist in the valley disappeared mysteriously a little later. It had scarcely done so when the boom of guns on the Russian side of the heights which the two friends had crossed during the night broke on their ears, while flashes from four points on the summit, and still louder reports, showed that the Turkish batteries, between which they had passed, were hotly engaged.