“We are Americans,” declared Sidney to the officer, “and are returning home. The Russian Government has ordered that all Americans be helped to leave the country.” The man replied in his own language, which was Greek to the boys, and they concluded that he did not understand them any better than they did him. When the officer saw that the boys did not obey his request he gave an order to his own men, and one of the soldiers dismounted and took Sidney’s horse by the bit, motioning to the boy to get off. “I tell you what, Ray,” said Sidney, “he’s going to seize our horses for the Government to use in the army. See, some of those loose horses have saddles, they’ve taken them away from somebody else.” “He’s not going to have my horse.” And Raymond dug his heels into the horse and struck him with the end of the reins. The spirited animal leaped forward and dashed to one side of the road to pass the little group of mounted men and their herd of horses. The officer gave a sharp order and the men whipped out their pistols. Sidney, when he saw the threatening movement, shouted to his brother,-- “Stop, Ray! they’re going to shoot.” Raymond either did not hear or did not care, for he struck his horse another blow and dashed past the obstructing group. Just as he reached the clear road beyond, the officer gave another sharp order and the soldiers fired a volley, all together. Sidney turned sick and faint, expecting to see his brother fall from his horse pierced by half a dozen bullets. Instead, the boy pulled his horse up with a jerk and took off his hat, which he examined ruefully. “They plugged my hat,”--and he exhibited a hole through the brim,--“but if I had my pistol here I’d show them better shooting than that.” “What made you run, Ray?” Sidney remonstrated, who was trembling with fright; “I don’t see how you escaped being killed.” “Pshaw! these fellows couldn’t kill anybody. I’ll let them see how we shoot in Texas.” Raymond jumped off his horse, and going up to one of the soldiers took hold of the pistol which the man was still holding in his hand, at the same time asking him, of course in English, for the loan of it a few minutes. The soldier looked inquiringly at his officer, who made no comment, and the man yielded the gun. “Gee! if it isn’t a Colt .38.” And the boy gazed longingly on the revolver. “That sure looks like home.” He held back the hammer and ran the cylinder around two or three times in wistful admiration, then he picked up two small rocks and throwing them into the air he fired twice in quick succession, shattering both rocks while they were still high in air. There were exclamations of wonder from the soldiers, and the officer said something which was apparently very complimentary. “I’ve just got to have that gun, Sid,”--and Raymond handled the revolver lovingly,--“I’m going to see if I can’t buy it.”