He succeeded in coaxing a small blaze out of a little pile of twigs. Dead tired, the boys rolled into their blankets and slept like logs. But they had a rude awakening, particularly in the case of Billy. As he lay snoring, a flash more vivid than lightning dragged him out of dreamland, and his hands flew to his eyes to protect them from the blinding glare. A searchlight was playing full on his face. He heard the clatter of horses' hoofs, and before he could see what was happening, a hand was on his shoulder and a revolver was pressed against his breast. Henri, startled into sitting posture, looked dazedly upon the proceedings. A Russian cavalryman, dismounted, was behind the revolver, and the searchlight was directed from a wagon. A stalwart figure in gold and brown, an officer in the service of the Czar, moved briskly into the circle of light to inspect the prisoners. Stroking his tawny mustache, he concluded brief comment with a short laugh. Translated, what he said was: "You have caught a pair of lambs, Peter." The soldier addressed as Peter hastily restored the revolver to his belt. Another soldier just then discovered the biplanes, and the officer deemed this find of great importance. He tried the French language on the boys in starting a series of blunt questions. "Who and what are you?" he demanded. "Aviators by profession, foreigners by birth, and prisoners because we couldn't help ourselves." The officer smiled at Henri's smart answer. "I suppose you came to this spot in those machines?" "Yes, sir," replied Henri, less snappy in tone. "We will hear more from you when we get to Warsaw," advised the Russian. "Shades of Tom Walker," thought Henri, "'out of the frying pan into the fire.'" "Peter and I will go along with you by the air route," proposed the officer; "I like the looks of those machines. We need them. Now, Peter, you must not let your pilot run away with you." Peter grinned and tapped the butt of his revolver. Captain Neva, for such was the Russian officer's title and name, was a rather advanced amateur in knowledge of aircraft, and he shrewdly estimated the value of the prizes that had come to his hand on this night's march. The subaltern, Peter, had also some flying experience, though he preferred a good horse under him rather than a board, and he, too, noted the fine points of the No. 3's. "A pretty present for the general, my captain," he rejoiced, "and all ready for delivery." The boys were given a substantial breakfast, and Henri learned that they were about 150 miles north of Warsaw. As this was figured on straight line measurement, the aviators realized that in the excitement of yesterday's racing they must have left the direct course many times, for considering the time they were in the air and the speed maintained, 150 miles was not a great distance. From one of the many wagons, loaded with ammunition and military supplies of all sorts, was produced a fresh supply of petrol for the biplanes.