h a quiet smile,
as he once more laid his head on his saddle.

Soon the noise in our little camp ceased, and, ere long, every man was
asleep except the sentinels.

Towards morning one of these observed a man approaching at full speed.
As he came near the sentinel threw forward his carbine and challenged.
The man stopped and looked about him like a startled hare, then, without
reply, turned sharply to the left and dashed off. The sentinel fired.
Of course we all sprang up, and the fugitive, doubling again to avoid
another sentinel, almost leaped into the arms of Andre Yanovitch, who
held him as if in a vice, until he ceased his struggles, and sank
exhausted with a deep groan.

On being led to one of the fires in a half-fainting condition, it was
found that he was covered with blood and wounds. He looked round him at
first with an expression of maniacal terror, but the moment he observed
Petroff among his captors he uttered a loud cry, and, springing forward
seized his hand.

"Why, Lewie," exclaimed the scout, with a gleam of recognition, "what
has happened?"

"The Bashi-Bazouks have been at our village!" cried the man wildly, as
he wiped the blood out of his eyes.

"Ha!" exclaimed Dobri, with a fierce look; "we can succour--"

"No, no, no," interrupted the man: with a strange mixture of horror and
fury in his blood-streaked face; "too late! too late!"

He raised his head, stammered as if attempting to say more, then,
lifting both arms aloft, while the outspread fingers clutched the air,
uttered an appalling cry, and fell flat on the ground.

"Not too late for revenge," muttered the officer commanding the
detachment. "Dress his wounds as quickly as may be, Mr Childers."

He gave the necessary orders to get ready. In a few minutes the horses
were saddled, and I had done what I could for the wounded man.

"You know the village he came from, and the way to it?" asked the
commanding officer of Petroff.

"Yes, sir, I know it well."

"Take the man up behind you, then, and lead the way."

The troop mounted, and a few minutes later we were galloping over a wide
plain, on the eastern verge of which the light of the new day was slowly
dawning.

An hour's ride brought us to the village. We could see the smoke of the
still burning cottages as we advanced, and were prepared for a sad
spectacle of one of the effects of war; but what we beheld on entering
far surpassed our expectations. Harvests trampled down or