Kirchoff and the Hussar, mounting, rode off, and as they passed Jack the latter said to the Cossack, ‘You might as well hang the poor devil at once as let him be frozen to death.’ And during that terrible night such seemed likely to be Jack’s fate. In the biting blast his threadbare clothes froze on his body, while the snow fell and half-covered him. He ached to the very bones, and had he been left where he was the whole night must of a certainty have been frozen to death. The men who had captured Jack, though, had to go out to relieve their companions. These on their return stamped round the blazing fire for a minute; then, seeming more humane than their comrades, they undid Jack’s bonds, tying only his legs, and bringing him near to the blazing fire, laid him down, covering him with a sheepskin. One man gave him a drink of _vodka_, and the fiery spirit, though it made Jack cough and splutter, probably saved his life. Sometimes dozing, sometimes half-delirious, Jack passed the hours till dawn. The picket was again relieved, and the same men who had captured Jack were again enjoying an off-duty spell. The Cossacks prepared breakfast, which they disposed of, and lit their pipes, offering Jack nothing. He was wondering how long he would have to endure his present treatment, when the galloping of horses was heard. Several men dashed up to the fire, and one, dismounting, made straight for Jack, bending down and looking in his face. He gave way to an exclamation of annoyance, then said a few words in haughty tones. The Cossacks, who on his approach had sprung to their feet and uncovered, instantly cut Jack’s bonds. ‘My friend! my preserver!’ cried the young officer in French, taking both Jack’s hands as he was lifted to his feet; ‘to think you should have been treated thus!’ Jack, who felt half-dazed, and whose legs were terribly cramped, would have fallen to the ground, but the officer caught him in his arms. ‘Courage! courage!’ he said; ‘you shall soon be more comfortable, and these dogs who have dared to use a British soldier thus shall smart for it.’ Jack stared dully at him. ‘Do you not recognise me?’ asked the young officer. Jack shook his head, when the officer removed his cap and opening his cloak showed the white uniform beneath. ‘I am Count Pauloff, he whom you saved at the Alma,’ he said. ‘I gave you this,’ and he held up the cross which Kirchoff had taken away the night before. ‘I remember,’ said Jack. ‘You look ill; you have been badly used. My poor friend, tell me what has happened?’ ‘I have been brutally used,’ said Jack; and he told the count what he had gone through. The Russian’s handsome features grew dark with rage. ‘I will teach these scum a lesson for disgracing our country. Are the men here who captured you?’ Four of them who had beaten Jack with their whips and lance-butts stood by the fire, pale with fear, for though they could not understand French they seemed to guess at the impending storm.