Heavens! the horse must have strayed! He was lost! He tried to look about him; but the bits of frozen rain cut into his face and prevented him from seeing more than a yard or two around him. He spurred his jaded horse and went forward a little quicker, vainly staring to right and left. Of a sudden he saw several mounted figures in front of him. They must be some stragglers riding from Balaclava to the camp, he thought; and, pushing forward, he hailed them. They turned, and then Jack’s heart gave a great thump--they were Cossacks! Immediately wheeling his horse, Jack dug in his spurs, while he wildly endeavoured to draw his sword, the only weapon he then carried. His cloak, however, was entangled round the hilt, and he could not get at it. Shouts behind him showed he had been recognised as an Englishman. A sharp report rang out. Jack’s horse gave a lurch, then fell heavily, throwing its rider. Next moment a mounted figure dashed up, something bright whizzed by Jack’s shoulder, and a lance-blade ripped through his cloak and the sleeve of his jacket, only just grazing the flesh, but sticking six inches in the ground and pinning him down. He tried to free himself from his wounded horse, but the lance held him too securely. In an instant half-a-dozen flat-faced Cossacks were round him, and one quieted Jack’s horse by placing the muzzle of his carbine in his ear and firing. Then they observed how Jack was pinned down by the lance, and the spectacle seemed to tickle them, for they laughed merrily. The man whose lance it was, dismounting, withdrew the weapon by using both hands to it, standing on Jack’s body to do so. He looked at the blade, and seeing it bright realised that Jack was practically unhurt, on which he called out to his companions, who, dismounting, threw themselves on Jack, tore off his cloak, which one of them promptly annexed, took his sword, and then with the lines that [Illustration: Jack having as much as he could do to keep up with his brutal captors.] encircled his body and his lance-cap tied his hands behind him so tightly that the skin was in several places broken. With a dexterity that spoke of long practice, they then searched him, taking his watch and every scrap of any value which he possessed. The cross which the Russian count had given him, after the battle of the Alma, Jack had ever since worn suspended round his neck under his jacket, thinking if ever he lived to return to England it would be a souvenir to give his mother. The Cossack who ripped this from Jack’s neck uttered a guttural exclamation, and showed it to his companions, whereupon they all began talking at once, one holding up the order in front of Jack as though asking where he got it from. ‘I suppose that’s what you mean, you ugly brutes,’ said Jack; ‘but I can’t make you understand any more than you can make me. If I were only again on poor Dainty’s back with a lance in my hand I’d make you sing another tune, some of you.’