ff Road just where it pierced the Fediukine Heights, descended
it until he reached the Balaclava plain. A few miles beyond, the
little town itself was visible, or, more exactly, the forest of masts
that already crowded its little land-locked port.

Here, on the right of the communications between the English army and
its base, a long range of redoubts had been thrown up and garrisoned
by the Turks. These crowned the summit of a range of low hillocks,
and, in marching to his point, McKay paused on the level ground
between two hills. The Turks on sentry gave him a "Bono Johnny!" as he
passed, by way of greeting; but they were far too lazy and too sleepy
to do more.

It was evident they kept a poor look-out, and doubtful strangers were
as free to pass as British friends. Just upon the rear of No. 3
Redoubt McKay and his men came upon a fellow crouching low amongst the
broken ground. McKay would have passed by without remark, but his
first look at the stranger, who wore no uniform and seemed a harmless,
unoffending Tartar peasant, was followed by a second and keener gaze.
He thought he recognised the man; he certainly had seen his face
before. Directing his men to seize him, he made a longer and closer
inspection, and found that it was the ruffian whom they had surprised
and chased on the heights above the Alma the morning after the battle.

"He is up to no good," said McKay. "We must take him along with us."

But where? The job they were on was a definite one; not the capture of
chance prisoners, which would certainly delay them on the road.

Still, remembering the last occasion on which he had seen this man,
and the mysterious remarks that Hyde had let fall concerning him,
McKay felt sure the fellow was not what he seemed. This Tartar dress
must be a disguise: how could Hyde have made the acquaintance years
before of a Tartar peasant in the Crimea?

Certainly the man must go with them, and therefore, placing him
securely in the midst of his party, McKay marched on. If nothing
better offered, he would hand his prisoner over to the Commandant of
Balaclava on arrival there.

But as they trudged along, and, leaving the cavalry-encampment on
their right, approached the ground occupied by the Highland brigade,
they encountered its general--McKay had seen him at the Alma--riding
out, accompanied by his staff.

The quick eye of Sir Colin Campbell promptly detected the prisoner. He
rode up at once to the party, and said,