ugly part of it. It's all ugly. But
sometimes war must come, it seems to me. We in Russia have never wanted
to make war. We have fought because we were forced to fight. I think
that is what history will say of us in this war."

"They are not going toward Russia," said Fred, looking after the
raiders, who were melting into the landscape now. "Their road seems to
be due west."

"They must ride in a long circle, I suppose," said Boris. "If they went
straight back, they would run right into the Germans. There must be a
lot of the enemy between us and the Russian lines--their main body, you
see. And my father won't want to fight. His object is to get back with
as many men as possible. It would be useless to send a thousand
Cossacks against an army corps."

"Oh, of course! It's wonderful to think of how they got here, Boris,
riding right through the enemy's country! It's like the work cavalry did
on both sides in our Civil War. They used to get behind the enemy's
lines and cut telegraph wires and railways all the time."

In the village, there were now more signs of life. As the Cossacks rode
by, the street had been empty, but now men and women were coming out
furtively. They began to come toward the parsonage.

"Time for us to go," said Fred, with decision. "We wouldn't have much
chance if they caught us here. And if we're to be of any use, those
people have got to think that we've gone."

"Right!" said Boris. "Hello--look up there! I was afraid of that!"

He pointed to a monoplane, flying high and coming from the north, from
the direction of the Baltic.

"Looking for the raiders," said Fred. "Let's hurry. I think we ought to
report what has happened by wireless. Your father's party may need
help."

CHAPTER XII

THE TRICK

It was nervous work going through the lower floor of the house, through
the garden, trampled by the rush of the Cossack charge, through bushes
clipped and torn by bullets. All about was a curious silence, broken
only by the sounds that the birds made, and the humming insects, which
were not at all disturbed by war and the ruin it left in its wake. It
was a relief to both scouts to pass into the tunnel. There everything
seemed normal, strange though the place was. And in a few moments they
were back in the great hall of the Suvaroff house, and were being
greeted with delight by old Vladimir, though he reproached them, too,
for coming back.

Their first thought was for the wireless. Fr