‘That’s a treacherous-looking young gentleman,’ said Pearson. ’ I’---- ‘Hark! what’s that?’ cried Jack, placing his hand to his ear. ‘It’s a trumpet-call.’ _Tan-ta-rara, tan-tarum! tan-ta-rara, tan-tarum! tan-ta-rara, tan tarum!_ rang out the notes. ‘The alarm!’ cried all four at once. ‘Mount!’ They ran to the barn, and were all busy tightening girths when the door was banged-to behind them and the key turned in the lock. In the semi-darkness they threw themselves against the door. No good, it held fast. ‘Trapped!’ cried Jack angrily; ‘and our comrades, what of them?’ CHAPTER XXI. SERGEANT LINHAM TAKES COMMAND. There was for the moment no means of telling what was befalling their comrades; and the imprisoned Lancers pounded and thundered at the door and sides of their prison, but without avail. In a few minutes they desisted, when they heard a sputtering volley, replied to by a sharper one. A ringing cheer, undeniably British, followed; then a clatter of hoofs, a chorus of cries, and all was quiet again. Some little time passed in anxious uncertainty. ‘I wish I had my hands on the rogue who locked us in,’ cried Will savagely, battering upon the door. ‘Don’t do that!’ said the sergeant sharply. ‘We’re in rather a tight fix, and we shall have to be very careful how we act. I take command, and no man moves except by my orders.’ The ring of authority in the sergeant’s voice was unmistakable. Though the trumpeters made fun of him, he was yet known as a brave soldier and one who had seen much war-service; therefore, apart from the right which his rank conveyed, all were ready to yield him unquestioning obedience. The interior of the place was examined; it was well and solidly built, partly of bricks, partly of timber. The door fitted well and was securely fastened. There was a small window perched high up, and several places that would serve well either as peep or loopholes. In the door, just above the lock, was a round hole, cut so that any one on the outside could put his hand through and raise the latch on the inside. Sergeant Linham took up his position at the little window, the others at various peep-holes, all on the alert. They had not long to wait. The sly-looking boy with the orange-coloured sash came cautiously creeping into the yard, followed by about twenty dismounted Cossacks and some Hussars wearing the same green-and-orange uniform as the man who had escaped from the wounded Cossack captain’s room. The Russians all carried carbines, and appeared to be waiting a signal to open fire. ‘Boys,’ said Sergeant Linham, ‘have your pistols ready. Remember the motto of the regiment, “Death or Glory!” These fellows may have our dead bodies; they mustn’t have our live ones. Ha, hum!’