o something--and I don't believe he's as
old as I am. Well, I've got to show him that an American scout can keep
up his end! I'll try to play the game with him."

It made up for all the trouble he had had since he had first seen his
uncle. He was more puzzled than ever, after what Boris had told him, to
account for the behavior of Mikail Suvaroff.

"I'll bet there's some explanation," he said to himself. "I certainly
hope so! Seeing Boris makes me inclined to like these Russian relatives
a whole lot, and I'd like to think that Uncle Mikail could square
himself somehow. He's got a whole lot to make up for, of course."

Though he did feel that very strongly, he was able now to frame a
thought that had come to him more than once after he had become certain
that it was Prince Suvaroff who had caused his arrest. And that was
that Suvaroff had seemed far too big and important a man to do a small,
petty thing.

"He's got a wrong idea of me, some way," Fred decided. "He has heard
something, or made up his mind to something that isn't so. Well, I hope
I get back to Russia and stay out of jail long enough to find out what
was wrong. Perhaps this war will make a difference, especially if I'm
lucky enough to be able do something for 'Holy Russia'."

Fred moved along quietly while he was thinking of the extraordinary
sequence of events that had brought him to where he now was, flashing
his light on the arrows, and looking for the double mark that would show
him he had reached the spot of which Boris had told him. But when he got
there he had no need of any sign, for he could hear voices distinctly on
the other side of a very thin wall. Boris was speaking.

"I'm so sorry, Herr Hauptmann," Boris was saying, in faultless German.
"I did see some of the peasants chivying a fellow down below. And I did
go out, of course, in my car, to see if I could help him. I got him away
from them. But he didn't come all the way back. He wanted to go on, and
it's not just the time I should choose for entertaining guests. So I
didn't urge him to stay."

"I'm sorry to seem to doubt your word. In fact, Prince, I don't," said a
rumbling voice, that of the German captain Boris had been addressing, as
Fred could guess. "But was this person you rescued so--chivalrously--an
Englishman?"

"I really don't know, Herr Hauptmann. He might have been. Or an
American. One or the other, I should think."

"Clever Boris!" thought Fred. "He'll tell him some trut