Ripping the seams of the coat with his knife, Phil quickly exposed the wound, and at once bound the muffler round it. Then with Tony's help he propped Sam with his back against the wheel, and placed the arm in a sling. "Stay there, old boy," he said gently, "and as soon as the pain goes off, crawl in behind the boxes. The Russians will not be able to reach you there." "Here yer are, mate," said Tony, handing Phil his bearskin. "It's about as near a go as you'll ever want. See, there's a hole bang through it, and the fur's all singed off the front." Phil inspected it with an outward show of coolness, but as he jammed it on his head he muttered beneath his breath a fervent thanksgiving to the Almighty for his preservation, for had he not ducked at the critical moment, that hole would not have been blown through the helmet, but through his head. "Get up on top, and keep a look-out, Tony," he exclaimed. "We're in a tight hole, and it will only be by keeping our eyes well open that we shall get safely out of it. First of all, though, break open one of those boxes, and load the rifles. We shall want plenty of ammunition, and had best have it ready and close at hand, in case of a sudden attack. I will have a look at these poor fellows." Crawling from beneath the cart, he knelt beside the Cossack into whose body he had thrust the bayonet. The poor fellow was evidently at his last gasp, but hearing Phil's voice he opened his eyes, and gazed wonderingly at him. Then, as he recognised him, he feebly raised his hand. A feeling of terrible grief and dismay surged through Phil's heart, for he was a lad who would sooner have lost his own life than taken that of another in cold blood. And yet, though this had been done in war-time, and whilst battling for life and liberty, a pang of regret oppressed him, and he felt only as a young man can feel who, for the first time in his existence, has been the cause of suffering and death to another. He took the hand of the dying man, and gently pressed it. "Are you in great pain, my poor fellow?" he whispered. The wounded Russian shook his head, and answered something. Phil placed his ear close to his mouth and listened. "We were enemies," the Cossack gasped, "bitter enemies, for you have invaded our country. But now we are friends, friends until death. Hold my hand, brother, and the Virgin will bless you. Feel round my neck when I am gone, and you will find a cross. Take--take it for yourself, and when you glance at it think sometimes of him who died for his beloved Czar and country." "I will, I will!" whispered Phil, with a groan of anguish.