ch
Kensky unchained and opened. He put his lips close to Malinkoff's ears.

"Do you remember the way you came?" he asked, and the general nodded and
led the way.

Last but one came Cherry Bim, a '45 in each hand. There were no soldiers
in view at the back of the house, but Malinkoff could hear their feet on
some unknown outside road, and realized that the house was in process of
being surrounded, and had the man who knocked at the door waited until
this encirclement had been completed, there would have been no chance of
escape.

They struck the main road, and found the cart track leading to the wood,
and none challenged them. There was no sound from the house, and
apparently their flight had not been discovered.

Kensky brought up the rear in spite of Cherry's frenzied injunctions,
delivered in the four words of Russian which he knew, to get a move on.
They had reached the fringe of the wood when the challenge came. Out of
the shadow rode a horseman, and brought his charger across the path.

"Halt!" he cried.

The party halted, all except Cherry, who stepped from the path and
moved swiftly forward, crouching low, to give the sentry no background.

"Who is that?" asked the man on the horse. "Speak, or I'll fire!"

He had unslung his carbine, and they heard the click of the bolt as the
breech opened and closed.

"We are friends, little father," said Malinkoff.

"Give me your names," said the sentry, and Malinkoff recited with glib
ease a list of Russian patronymics.

"That is a lie," said the man calmly. "You are boorjoos--I can tell by
your voices," and without further warning he fired into the thick of
them.

The second shot which came from the night followed so quickly upon the
first that for the second time in like circumstances the girl thought
only one had been fired. But the soldier on the horse swayed and slid to
the earth before she knew what had happened.

"Go right ahead," said the voice of Cherry Bim.

He had caught the bridle of the frightened horse, and had drawn him
aside. They quickened their steps and came up to the car, which the
thoughtful chauffeur had already cranked up at the sound of the shots.

"Where is Kensky?" asked Malcolm suddenly, "did you see him, Cherry?"

A pause.

"Why, no," said Cherry, "I didn't see him after the lamented tragedy."

"We can't leave the old man," said Malcolm.

"Wait," said the little gun-man. "I will go back and look for him."

Five minutes, ten