“Don’t reply,” whispered Sandoff to his companions. “The situation is critical, but not altogether hopeless. For my part I prefer the chances of being shot to giving myself up. You know what lies in store for us if we are taken?” “We will go ahead by all means,” whispered Shamarin, and Vera was of the same mind, showing not a particle of fear. So, without deigning to answer the Cossack, who had by this time repeated his threat, the fugitives dropped below the gunwales, and the boat was allowed to take its own course. For half a minute there was deep silence and then the valley echoed with ringing reports. Crack!—crack!—crack!—crack—!—crack! So it continued intermittently as the Cossacks quickly loaded and fired, and the boat drifted on its course with provoking slowness. It was a terrible ordeal through which the three crouching figures were passing. The hissing bullets fell everywhere, plowing furrows and holes in the ice cakes, splashing water over the sides of the boat, and not infrequently imbedding themselves in the timbers of the little craft. Had it been closer to the left shore, none of its inmates could have escaped—for the Cossacks were fair marksmen, and kept up the fusillade with untiring persistency. Fortunately no bullets struck very close to the water line, but Sandoff was grazed on the thigh and had his cap shot off, while Shamarin was hit in the fleshy part of his left arm. At last the firing became less continuous, dwindling down to a few stray shots. When a full minute passed in silence, Sandoff ventured to lift his head, and saw that the boat had once more passed into the shadow of the overhanging hills. He drew his head back, cautioning his companions to do the same, for if they could put the Cossacks under the impression that all three had been killed, it would greatly increase their chances of ultimate escape. CHAPTER VI. THE FLIGHT. The fugitives crouched thus for twenty minutes or more. Then, as the boat could ill spare their attention, and was being driven dangerously among the ice floes, the two men seized the boathooks and stood up. The Cossacks and the open country had both disappeared. Dark, gloomy hills encircled the river as far as the eye could reach. Sandoff noted with satisfaction that the snow was still falling thickly. “If we can reach the hut that you speak of,” he said to Vera, “we shall be quite safe as far as pursuit is concerned. The cold is our greatest enemy now.” “We must fight it off,” replied the girl. “Even with this swift current we cannot reach the hut before tomorrow afternoon, for it lies very near the point where the Shilka and the Amur River meet.” “How shall we know the place, Vera?” asked her brother. For answer she produced a tiny scrap of paper covered with close writing. While Shamarin held a lighted match over her shoulder, she read the contents aloud: