ir ilk along the Neva. The trio of strangers were Russian Cossacks.
How had they passed the Krovitch outposts some miles back? The boldness
of their onslaught argued the presence of reinforcements in the
neighborhood. Could it be part of a reconnoissance in force? The sudden
memory of the passing of the invisible army in the darkness came back to
Carter with sinister meaning. He realized that it had been an invasion
by a Russian army. Krovitch had been betrayed--by Josef. Carrick was in
danger.

He roweled the horse's side. The animal, smarting under the punishment,
plunged forward like some mad thing. Settling firmly back in his saddle
for the crash to come, Carter drew his sabre with the yell that had
swept the Americans up San Juan Hill and the Spaniards out of Cuba.

One Cossack, startled at the unexpected shout, turned his head for an
instant in the direction of the approaching succor. It served for
Carrick. Like a tongue of lightning his nimble sword entered the tough
brown throat. Even from that distance the American could distinguish the
"Ht" of the brute as he fell, lifeless, in the road. In order to make
short work of the agile swordsman, the other two closed grimly in. The
Cockney had had some difficulty in disengaging his blade from the
falling man, permitting his adversaries to push their ponies so close to
his sides that he could work only with a shortened blade. Appreciating
what terrific additional handicap this would be to Carrick, Carter was
yet scarcely prepared for the immediate tragedy that followed. Like the
phantasmagoria of dreams, he saw the Cockney, cut, slashed, and pierced,
fall heavily from his horse.

Just a second too late, he burst upon them. With the yell of a baffled
animal Carter hurled himself upon the nearest Cossack. His fury was
volcanic. Terrified by such titanic rage the pair gave way as to
something superhuman, wielding an irresistible sword. Blood-lust made
him see everything through a mist, red and stinging. He was a Cave Man.
His opponents were pigmies who shrank back, appalled, by his murderous
might. One Slav saw death beckon him, so fell, wild-eyed, to the ground,
his neck spurting a fountain of blood. The other, too paralyzed with
terror to fight or flee, stood irresolutely in the mid-road, his ugly
face twitching with an idiotic grin. Carter, hell in his heart, rode
fiercely against his horse. The Cossack raised a futile blade. Carter
battered it down with vengeful sat