with soldiers. Every
road was watched, and he had four cartridges between him and capture.
There was only one thing to do, and that was to go back the way the car
had come, and he stepped out undauntedly, halting now and again to stoop
and look along the railway line, for he was enough of an old campaigner
to know how to secure a skyline.

Then in the distance he saw a regular line of lights, and those lights
were moving. It was a railway train, and apparently it was turning a
curve, for one by one the lights disappeared and only one flicker, which
he judged was on the engine, was visible. He bent down again and saw the
level horizon of a railway embankment less than two hundred yards on his
left, and remembered that Malinkoff had spoken of the Warsaw line.

He ran at full speed, floundering into pools, breaking through bushes,
and finally scrambled up the steep embankment. How to board the train
seemed a problem which was insuperable, if the cars were moving at any
speed. There was little foothold by the side of the track, and
undoubtedly the train was moving quickly, for now the noise of it was a
dull roar, and he, who was not wholly unacquainted with certain
unauthorized forms of travel, could judge to within a mile an hour the
rate it was travelling.

He fumbled in his pocket and found a match. There was no means of making
a bonfire. The undergrowth was wet, and he had not so much as a piece of
paper in his pocket.

"The book!"

He pulled it out, ripped off the canvas cover with his knife, and tried
to open it. The book was locked, he discovered, but locks were to Cherry
like pie-crusts--made to be broken. A wrench and the covers fell apart.

He tore out the first three or four pages, struck the match, and the
flame was touching the corner of the paper when his eyes fell upon the
printed words. He stood open-mouthed, the flame still burning, gazing at
the torn leaf until the burning match touched his finger and he dropped
it.

Torn between doubts, and dazed as he was, the train might have passed
him, but the light of a match in the still, dark night could be seen for
miles, and he heard the jar of the brakes. He pushed the book and the
loose leaves into his pocket and ran along the embankment to meet the
slowing special--for special it was.

He managed to pass the engine unnoticed, then, crouching down until the
last carriage was abreast, he leapt up, caught the rail and swung
himself on to the rear footbo