ll these weeks? Wait, though--ah, was not the first
letter `N'?"

"That is right, excellency; and our master the Czar's name also
commences with that letter," the sentry replied encouragingly.

"Nicolas!" cried Phil boldly.

"Excellency, your pardon on my insisting; pass whither you will. All is
well."

"That is good, fellow," Phil cried. "Come, comrades, we have business
with the Malakoff."

Another fire minutes, and the sentry and trench were passed. Skirting
by the great fortress, they bore up for the British trenches, crossing
as they did so several rows of ditches and earthworks. Then they lay
down and listened. Close at hand there was a hum of voices, while away
on the left a sharp musketry fire was being maintained, the flicker of
the exploding powder cutting the darkness at every second. In front all
was pitch blackness in the valley in which they stood, but higher up on
the elopes beyond fires were burning, and dark figures were occasionally
silhouetted against them as they passed.

"Now for it!" whispered Phil. "If there is any firing lie on your
faces. We don't want to be killed by our own side."

Sneaking through the mud and mire on hands and knees the three crept
forward in absolute silence. Soon the last trench was passed, and the
British earthworks loomed in the distance. At last they were close to
liberty and friends. Not more than sixty yards separated them, and
already the murmur of the men's voices could be heard, when, with a
sharp exclamation, Phil disappeared.

There was a scuffle, a startled cry of astonishment and fear, and the
loud report of a musket.

"Quick, help me!" Phil cried from the rifle-pit into which he had
fallen. Then there was a choked cry, and all was silence for a few
moments.

With a growl of rage Tony threw himself into the pit, almost smashing
Phil as he fell.

"That you, Tony?" the latter asked coolly.

"Yes, it's me sure enough, mate. Are yer hurt, old man?"

"Not a bit, but it was a hard struggle. I fancy the Russian is dead,
for I gave him a tremendous blow on the head with my iron bar. Now, let
us push on, for the alarm has been given, and it will mean capture if we
stay."

But the Russian sharpshooters had taken the alarm. Occupying a row of
pits, each of which was sufficiently large to hold one man, they had
orders to worry the besiegers by their fire, and to be always on the
look-out for an assault. At the report of their comrade's