y. And, for
the present at any rate, our gallant little horse was more than a match
for theirs, and was distancing them rapidly.

Another flash, and "Now!" roared "Ivan," above the roar of the thunder.
I had already sprung up, knowing that I must jump before the next flash
came; and Mishka, as I found afterwards, did the same.

Steadying myself for a moment, I let myself drop, stumbled backward for
a few steps, fell, and rolled into the ditch, just as the pursuers
clattered past, in a whirlwind of oaths.

For the moment I, at least, had escaped; but where was Mishka?

CHAPTER XIX

NIGHT IN THE FOREST

As the sounds of flight and pursuit receded, I crawled out of the ditch,
and called softly to my companion, who answered me, from the other side
of the road, with a groan and an oath.

"I am hurt; it is my leg--my ankle; I cannot stand," he said
despairingly.

As the lightning flared again, I saw his face for a moment, plastered
with black mud, and furious with pain and chagrin. I groped my way
across to him, hauled him out of the ditch, and felt his limbs to try to
ascertain the extent of his injury.

It might have been worse, for there were no broken bones, as I had
feared at first; but he had a badly sprained ankle.

"Bind it--hard, with your handkerchief," he said, between his set teeth.
"We must get out of this, into the wood. They will return directly."

His grit was splendid, for he never uttered a sound--though his foot
must have hurt him badly--as I helped him up. Supporting him as well as
I could, we stumbled into the wood, groping our way through the
darkness, and thankful for every flash that gave us light, an instant at
a time, and less dazzling--though more dangerous--here under the canopy
of pine branches than yonder on the open road.

Even if Mishka had not been lamed, our progress must have been slow, for
the undergrowth was thick; still, he managed to get along somehow,
leaning on me, and dragging himself forward by grasping each slender
pine trunk that he lurched up against.

He sank down at length, utterly exhausted, and, in the pause that
followed, above the sound of our labored breathing and the ceaseless
patter of the rain on the pines, I heard the jangle of the cavalry
patrol returning along the road. Had "Ivan" eluded or outdistanced them?
Were they taking him back with them, a prisoner; or, worst of all, had
they shot him?

The sounds passed--how close we still were to th