"The sooner we are out of this the better," muttered Phil. "Just look round without attracting attention, Tony. These Cossacks are scowling at us as if they would like to cut our throats." Tony drew an extremely black pipe from his pocket, and, holding a cake of plug tobacco above the bowl, dexterously cut shavings with his knife, ramming them down with his finger till the pipe was filled. Then he placed it in his mouth, and, calmly stepping over to a fire, which was burning close at hand, he lifted a blazing stick and applied it to the weed, turning as he did so, and swiftly gazing round the Cossack lines. A crowd of the horsemen were standing a few yards away, scowling heavily at their prisoners and muttering amongst themselves. "Ugh! a bigger set of blackguards I never see," Tony remarked calmly. "`Git', as the Yankees say, is the word for us, Phil. It'll be safe to-night with Vilnoff, but to-morrow, when he's gone, they'll pass on their tale to the other coves who've got to look after us, and a precious poor time of it well have." At this moment Vilnoff returned, and, beckoning to his prisoners, led them to where his blankets and saddle lay. The former were spread upon the ground, and Phil and Tony sat down on them. "The horse is fed and watered, and now we will look to ourselves," said Vilnoff, with a friendly smile. "I have managed to get an extra allowance of meat, and here is plenty of bread. Now we will have a fire to ourselves;" and stepping across he quickly returned with a blazing stake. Round this sticks from a bundle tied to his saddle were piled, and soon a cheerful fire was burning. Over the blaze was placed an iron tripod, from which a small kettle full of water was suspended, and into this the meat was thrown, after having been cut into small pieces. For an hour the three sat gazing at the blazing embers, while Phil and Vilnoff discussed the prospects of the campaign. At last the stew was ready. The Russian produced three tin plates and as many mugs, and soon they were enjoying their meal. A small tot of vodka, diluted with water, followed, and then, having smoked a last pipe, and being thoroughly tired out, Phil and Tony lay full length on the rugs, while Vilnoff, producing an enormous kaross of sheep-skin, spread it over them, crawled beneath it himself, and with a guttural "Good-night, Englishman!" placed his head on his saddle, and was quickly in the land of dreams. As for Phil and Tony, they were worn out, and scarcely had they turned over when they too were asleep, in blissful forgetfulness of the stirring events of the day, and of the dead and dying, who lay not ten miles away on the blood-stained slopes of the Alma.