in an open spot, from which, unseen, they could look
down towards Sebastopol.

A curious figure he was too--more like a scarecrow than a British
soldier. A short stubbly beard covered his chin, while a flaming red
handkerchief was tied round his head in place of his bearskin, lost long
ago now at the Alma. His red tunic was tattered and stained with mud,
and his trousers hung in rags round his boots.

As for Phil, he was in no better plight; but still, strange to say, he
looked spruce and neat beside his rough companion, the short fair down
upon his cheeks scarcely showing, and contrasting most favourably with
Tony's spiky beard.

"Right again, young 'un!" agreed the latter, evidently in the highest
spirits. "We'll lie up over there to-night, and then make a dash for
it. That sleep has just put new life into me, and now I'm ready for
anything; and I tell yer, Phil, it's got to be five to one afore I gives
in to the Russians. Let's have a look at this here toothpick;" and he
dragged his sword, a heavy cavalry sabre, from its sheath. "Sharp as a
razor," he remarked, with a grim smile, feeling the edge. "All the
better. It's got plenty of weight too, and once I wants to use it,
blest if I don't make it cut clean through the head of one of our
Cossack friends."

He swished the sword round in the air, narrowly missing Phil in his
eagerness. Then, thrusting it back into the sheath, he stalked across
to the ponies and commenced to saddle up.

That night they reached the vineyard close against the heights bearing
the Woronzoff road, and in it they passed the following day, devouring
an abundance of grapes, which were perfectly ripe, and served to keep
off the pangs of hunger, now that their bread and meat had disappeared.

When darkness fell again they were fully prepared for the last dash. A
nek between two stunted hills forming the ridge of heights had been
chosen, and through this they were to ride into the valley, and from
there into the British camp. Crowning the heights they could discern
three batteries, but no flag flew above them, though the fact that the
guns, which were now clearly distinguishable, were turned towards the
opposite Kamara heights, in occupation by the Russians, pointed
conclusively to the fact that they were manned by the Allies.

"They are our batteries undoubtedly," said Phil when discussing the
question with his friend, "but for all that, I propose we slip between
them, and make