shack rushed the tall
figure of the prince, in his hand a pair of binoculars which he raised
to his eyes.

Whether or not be spotted them, an instant later he turned and uttered
a command, and two huge Cossacks sprang to the pursuit.

"There's nothing to do now but run for it!" cried Stoddard, leaping to
his feet.

The professor followed and they plunged on up the slope, bullets from
their pursuers' pistols and the rifles of those below kicking up the
dust around them. But either because the aim was bad or the targets
difficult, they escaped unscathed.

As for Stoddard, he wasted no time in firing back.

"Once we get in those mountains, we're safe!" he gasped, as they
struggled on. "How are you, Professor--all right?"

"No holes in my skin so far!" came the panting answer.

Five desperate, dodging minutes passed.

Glancing over their shoulders, they saw that the heavy, stolid
Cossacks were losing ground. And ahead, tauntingly near now, loomed a
thickly-wooded slope that meant the beginning of big timber--and
safety.

Another five minutes--each second an hour--and they had gained it.

* * * * *

But there was no pausing yet, they could hear the Cossacks crashing on
like determined blood-hounds behind.

"No need to climb any more!" exclaimed Stoddard, half breathless.
"We'll edge along, keep in the trees, and try to throw them off."

The older man said nothing; merely gritted his teeth. This climb had
told on him more than anything he had experienced on the cruel slopes
of Kinchinjunga.

As they struggled along now, sometimes it seemed that they had thrown
their pursuers off the trail, or completely outdistanced them, but
always a moment later they would hear again the crunch of the
Cossacks' boots on the dry undergrowth.

So the grim flight continued, mile after heart-tearing mile, and
Stoddard was beginning to realize that the professor couldn't keep on
much longer--had just about decided to stop and shoot it out with
their pursuers--when suddenly there came a sound that brought new hope
to him.

"Did you hear that?" he gasped, pausing.

"It--sounded like--a car!" panted his companion.

"Right. And that means there must be a road through here somewhere!
But where?"

"Listen." Professor Prescott pointed to the left. "The sound seems to
be coming from over there."

And sure enough, from the left came a wheezing grind of a car making a
heavy grade.

"Near, too,"