A Gallant Grenadier: A Tale of the Crimean War

The speakers passed on, and Phil hastily interpreted what he had overheard.

“Whack us, will they?” muttered Tony, gritting his teeth. “That’s one more chalked up against these Cossack chaps. Pigs, indeed! Yah!” And his indignation being too great for words, he subsided into silence. Giving the patrol sufficient time to get well away, they sprang from the ditch, and hastily squeezing the water from their clothes, struck across to the outhouses. Beyond them and within fifty paces was a small farmhouse, standing in absolutely open fields, with not a sign of a vineyard or patch of cultivated ground, while fenced-in enclosures and distant bleating and lowing told that this was a grazing-farm, and that its owner did not trust to crops for his livelihood.

By this time the light was distinctly clearer and the night was rapidly drawing to a close; so that, if they were to escape observation, it was necessary that they should hide themselves away.

“The outhouses will be the best for us,” said Phil, thinking aloud. “Come along, Tony; we must see which one will suit us best. If they are merely empty huts, meant for cattle, they will be of no use to us, and we shall have to try the house, or get into an empty pig-sty or something of the sort.”

The first was simply an empty shed, and the second proved equally useless. The third was much larger than the others, and the big, closed doors showed it to be a coach-house.

“That will do, so we’ll get inside at once,” whispered Phil. “Just run round, Tony, and see if there’s a window close to the ground.”

While Phil knocked out the pin that held the hasp of the door, Tony went in search of a window, and returned to say that the only opening he could find was a trap-door high up, evidently leading to a hay-loft. But there was no ladder.

“Then we must find one,” said Phil quickly. “It will never do to get in and leave the door open. If we cannot find a ladder, perhaps there will be a piece of rope inside, and we can manage it like that.”

Tony disappeared again, while Phil, opening one of the huge doors, entered the shed. In it were several arabas and heavy carts run close together, while behind them, and pushed close against the wooden wall, was a dilapidated and old-fashioned four-wheeled carriage, completely covered in by an antiquated leather hood, and yet by its mere presence there proving that the owner was a moderately well-to-do person.

“Just the thing for us,” muttered Phil. “Now for a rope or a ladder.”

He hunted about in the dim light, and presently came across some harness, made of twisted hide, hanging close against the door. To take it down and buckle the traces together was only a few minutes’ work, and by that time Tony had returned, to dolefully inform his friend that he had searched everywhere without discovering a ladder, and that, in addition, while prowling round the house, he had seen a light moving, showing that its occupants were already astir.

“How’ll this do, Tony?” asked Phil, producing his improvised rope. “Now, who’s to do the climbing? You – or shall I be the one?”

Tony settled the question by stepping outside and closing the door, having taken the precaution to leave his stick with Phil. Then he jammed the hasp to, and, having replaced the pin, ran round till he was beneath the trap-door.

A series of niches had been left in the planks which formed the wall, and up these Phil rapidly swarmed, and gained the loft. Throwing the trap-door open, he lowered his rope, and sitting on the floor, with both feet wedged against the wall, called softly to Tony to climb. Two minutes later they were together.

“Now, Tony,” said Phil, “pick up a big armful of hay and toss it down. You will find an old coach in the corner of the shed. Take the hay there and make all comfortable, while I close and fasten the door, and put these traces back.”

Working rapidly, for there was no saying when a hot search might be made for them, it was not long before they were both comfortably ensconsed in the dilapidated coach, leaving the interior of the shed as they had found it.

“All we want now is a look-out,” said Phil thoughtfully. “You stay where you are, Tony, while I search for one. In any case I shall have plenty of time to get back to you, for no one could get in here without giving us plenty of warning.”

“Search away, old horse – search till yer find it. I’m as comfortable here as a prince in his palace,” exclaimed Tony, with a broad grin of contentment, throwing himself back upon the hay which filled the roomy carriage.

Phil opened the door and stepped out. Then he searched the walls thoroughly, finding many cracks and apertures by which he was able to obtain a clear view of his surroundings. Better than all, he discovered a long crevice between two planks directly behind their hiding-place.

Stepping into the carriage he closed the door, and, opening his knife, cut a large triangular slit in the leather covering. Through this, to Tony’s absolute bewilderment, he thrust his head, and stared through the aperture in the wall, to find that it commanded an excellent view of the farmhouse and surroundings.

“There you are, Tony,” he laughed, withdrawing his head. “That is our look-out, and one of us must be stationed there all day. This slit I have made is never likely to be noticed. Have a look yourself.”

Tony did so, but withdrew his head almost more quickly than he had thrust it out.

“Bust me! the Russians are already after us,” he cried. “See for yourself, Phil. They are hammering at the door of the farmhouse.”

Shouts, shrill hoots, and loud hangings reached their ears, and, glueing his eyes to the crevice, Phil saw that a party of horsemen had ridden up and halted before the farmhouse, and within a short distance of the outhouse in which he and his friend were hidden. A few moments later the door of the farmhouse was opened, and a man appeared looking somewhat startled.

“What do you want?” he asked angrily. “Am I to have no peace? It is scarcely an hour since you roused me in search of some of your beggarly prisoners who have escaped. Am I to be disturbed like this because you do not keep a careful watch?”

“Gently, old man, gently,” a rough fellow with a rasping voice answered. “We are but doing the duty of our country and our master, and you had better keep a civil and obliging tongue in your head. We know of farms very near at hand that are farms no longer. Don’t we, my comrades?” he asked with a brutal laugh. “They were burnt – by accident, perhaps – and their owner hangs to the nearest tree outside. Perchance – wretched man – of his own act, and perchance, my surly friend, because he was indiscreet.”

“What do you want, then?” asked the farmer in a more civil tone, evidently overawed by the black and lowering looks of the Cossacks, and by the covert threats which their spokesman had uttered.

“Something good and of your beat, my friend, for we are hungry; and after that we will search the farm once more.”

“Very well, come in if you will. Here, wife,” he shouted, “prepare a meal for these good fellows.”

“What’s all the noise about,” asked Tony impatiently, tugging at Phil’s arm.

Then when he had learnt he grumbled. “Something to eat. That’s what they’re after now, is it? Young ’un, the very mention of a meal makes me as hollow as the drum of our Grenadier band. Just keep an eye upon them till they are out of the way, and then we’ll fall to ourselves. We’ve only bread and water, but I feel like tackling anything.”

A little later the Cossacks had entered the house, leaving their ponies outside, unsaddled, and tied by the halter to a long rope attached to a ring in the door-post. A plentiful supply of corn had been given them, and while their masters were busy with knife and fork, they ate it hungrily, and having finished it, promptly drooped their heads and fell asleep, for the Cossack pony, though hardy and full of strength, is a long-suffering animal, and never knows how soon he may be called upon for work. Therefore, having been on the move most of the night, one and all took immediate advantage of the moment’s respite given them. As for Phil and Tony, stretching their legs and bunching a thick layer of hay beneath them, they set to work on the bread they had saved, and enjoyed their meal in spite of its being so simple.

An hour later there was a commotion outside, and Phil, who was on the watch, saw the Cossacks emerge from the farmhouse.

Then they separated, and in couples searched every corner of the house and its surroundings.

“This looks a likely kind of place,” said one of them, approaching the shed in which Phil and Tony were hidden. “Come, Petroff, we will enter it together. I would not for the wealth of the Czar undertake the search alone, for these English fools, though unarmed, are capable of killing us. See how our unlucky comrade was damaged by a blow from one of their fists. He says he remembers only thrusting at them with his lance, and then a flash in his eyes as of a thousand stars. Truly they are brutes who learn to strike down men with their clenched hand alone.”

“What is the good of entering there?” his companion answered surlily. “Can you not see, fool, that the door is pinned outside? There is no other entrance but the trap-door, so how can they be there, unless, indeed, they possess wings? For I know the ladder is within the farmhouse. Still, we will search the place, and then can honestly say that we have used every endeavour.”

A grating sound accompanied by loud creaking followed this as both doors were thrown wide-open to afford a better light.

Crouching close between the seats of their refuge, the two comrades waited breathlessly, stick in hand, and with fast-beating hearts, while the two Cossacks searched every corner of the dwelling.

“They are not here, as I said,” a voice cried from the loft. “This trap-door is bolted on the inside, and the big doors on the outside. It is clear that our trouble is for nothing. Still,” he added, having scrambled down by means of the niches, “were I escaping from our enemies this is the place I should choose, and that carriage over there is the roost I should take possession of. From its size it should form most comfortable quarters;” and as if to prove the truth of this, he crept between the carts, and, turning the handle, attempted to open the door.

“Hang on for your life, Tony,” whispered Phil, who had overheard all that passed. “This fellow is trying to pull the door open.”

Both at once clung to it, Phil grasping the handle inside, while Tony dug his fingers into the window slits and pulled with all his strength.

“Bah!” muttered the Cossack, disappointed in his attempt. “What is the use of a carriage with a door that does not open?” and, turning away, he and his companion left the outhouse.

“That was a near go, Phil, old horse,” whispered Tony excitedly. “I thought it was all up, and was ready to jump out and tackle the other beggar while you settled the fellow tugging at the door. We’d have downed ’em, too, but I suppose they’d have given warning to the others.”

“Certain to have done so, Tony. You may not know it, but the man who was doing his best to break in here is the gentleman who proposes to thrash us when we are captured.”

“Oh, he is, is he?” was Tony’s grim reply. “Wait a little while and I’ll settle the hash of that fine chap.”

A quarter of an hour later Phil saw the horsemen collect together, and, having saddled their ponies, they rode away from the farm, evidently to the no small satisfaction of the farmer. In half an hour two of them returned, and having unsaddled they turned their horses into a shed, and, carrying their saddles, banged at the farmhouse door again.

“What now?” surlily asked the owner, appearing.

“Only a lodging for the two of us,” one, a big burly fellow, the same that had attempted to open the carriage door, answered with an oath. “Come, master farmer, we want no trouble; accommodation for two, good feeding, and plenty of that vodka we have already tasted, are what we desire. We have been ordered here to keep a look-out for the runaways.”

With a growl of displeasure the man bade them enter, and nothing more of them was seen till the evening, when they appeared, evidently in an intoxicated condition.

That night Phil was lowered from the trap-door by Tony, and when he returned he brought a loaf of bread and a joint of meat, which he had abstracted through an open window of the farmhouse, and in addition, a pocketful of apples from a tiny orchard growing near.

The following day passed uneventfully. The two Cossacks made a thorough search of the surroundings, and once more returned to their beloved vodka.

That night again Phil went out in search of provender, but, in endeavouring to reach a plate of provisions which stood upon a shelf within the window, he upset a dish which clattered to the ground and smashed into a thousand pieces. Instantly a window was thrown open and a head put out.

Phil crept into the shadow and crouched low.

“Who is there?” a drunken voice called. “Comrade, there are thieves about. Rouse yourself.”

The window closed with a bang, and, darting across to the outhouse, Phil rapidly clambered up through the trap-door, and he and Tony having gained their hiding-place, once more waited anxiously for what was to follow. But the Cossacks evidently preferred the comfort of a warm room to searching for a thief who was, for all they knew, far away already. So, grumbling that they would see to it on the morrow, they turned in again, and soon all was quiet.

“We shall have to clear away from here, Tony,” said Phil as they waited. “The disappearance of food is certain to lead to suspicion, and we shall be caught. To-morrow night we will make a bolt for it.”

On the following morning it was evident that more than suspicion had been aroused, and a hot search was instituted, for, from what Phil overheard, none in the farmhouse doubted that the escaped prisoners were close at hand. Saddling up, the Cossacks searched every corner of the fields, and returned utterly baffled at mid-day. A feed of corn was tossed into the shed close at hand, and the ponies driven in ready for an instant start; then the Russians betook themselves to their favourite bottle, and when they reappeared were evidently the worse for its contents. But they were far from giving up the search.

“They must be close at hand,” the man, whose voice Phil had heard so often, exclaimed with an oath. “We must find them too, comrade, and then we shall be rewarded. Where can the fools be? Ah! let us try the coach-house again. These English, I have heard, are dense and slow, but perhaps these two have more wits than their brothers.”

“Tony, we’re done for, I fear,” said Phil, hastily withdrawing his head. “This shed is to be searched again.”

“We must just chance it then,” grunted Tony. “It’s a bad scrape we’re in, but we were lucky the other day. If this fellow does find us in here, why, we must just silence the two of them. It’s their lives or our liberty, and I’m determined to get out of their hands. Lie low, old boy, and if these coves spot us it’ll be the worse for them.”

Tony shook his stick threateningly, and was on the point of launching into an elaborate explanation of the exact punishment he would mete out to the Cossack who had promised his friends to thrash the fugitives, when the door of the shed was thrown open with a bang, and the two Russians reeled in.

“Search the loft, comrade,” said the big man authoritatively. “This spirit of our friend’s is good and powerful stuff, and my legs are none too steady.”

The man did as he was told, and, peeping through the window, Phil watched him laboriously climbing to the loft, looking as though he might lose his grip and fall at any moment.

The big man stood still for a second, stroking his beard. Then, evidently struck once more by the appearance of the covered carriage, he crept towards it.

“What is this?” he muttered loudly when a few paces away. “Is it the vodka, or did I turn that handle and leave it so?” With an effort he pulled himself together; suddenly remembering that he had indeed turned the handle and neglected to restore it to its usual position, and realising that it was now closed, he gave a drunken shout and rushed at the door.

Chapter Fourteen.

Almost Trapped

The sight of a burly, black-bearded Russian of forbidding aspect, half-maddened moreover by drink, rushing at one’s hiding-place, is calculated to inspire the bravest with trepidation, and in the case of Phil and Tony it can be recorded, without fear of their incurring the epithet of coward, that both were more than a little alarmed for their safety. But they were in a cage – in an extremely tight corner without doubt – and, rendered desperate by the knowledge, and that recapture meant, if not death, certainly ill-treatment, they determined to make a light for it.

“Silence him at all costs,” Phil whispered rapidly. “Let him pull the door open, and then drag him in. I leave it to you to silence him, Tony.”

“Ay, I’ll do that, never fear,” was the hurried answer in a tone which showed that though a handkerchief as a gag had possibly occurred to the gallant Tony as a method, yet he knew of other and surer means.

A second later the handle was wrenched open, and the door flew back with a bang, while the Cossack almost fell into the carriage.

There was a swish and a sounding crash, and he flopped into the hay limply, stunned by a heavy blow from Tony’s club, which, had it not been for the thick astrakhan hat the Russian wore, would have settled his fate there and then.

His helpless body was instantly dragged into the corner and a hurried consultation held.

“We’ve got to fix up that other chap,” said Tony grimly. “Now his pal’s gone the fat’s in the fire.”

“No doubt about it, Tony,” agreed Phil. “We must silence both. Let us get out and wait near the door for the other fellow. We can leave this man for the present, for that crack you gave him will keep him quiet for a time.”

Tony chuckled.

“And he was the chap as was going to tie us up and whop us!” he said, with huge enjoyment. “He was going to give us a taste of the rope! He shall have some himself soon, but for the present the dose of stick will suit him.”

Shaking his club at the unconscious man, he followed Phil out of the carriage and closed the door. Both crawled beneath the cart till close to the niches down which the Russian must climb, and waited eagerly for his appearance. But there was not a sound above, and nothing but the certainty that he had ascended to the loft to convince them that he was there still.

“What has happened to him?” asked Phil. “Do you think he heard the noise below, and has escaped through the trap-door?”

“Not he,” Tony answered with assurance. “He’s up there, p’r’aps hiding, but most like dead asleep. Listen. Perhaps we’ll hear him.”

There was a minute’s silence, when both heard heavy snoring from the loft, and looked at one another, uncertain how to proceed.

“We’re in a fix,” said Phil shortly. “We dare not move out of this till nightfall, for the surrounding country is open; and we cannot leave this fellow asleep up there. He may pull himself together at any moment and search for his friend. Also if we climb up to him we are likely to rouse him, and he will give the alarm before he can be silenced.”

“Yes, it’s a real fix, Phil; but we’ve got to get out of it,” muttered Tony, scratching his head in bewilderment. “Why not sing out to him in his own lingo and tell him to come down?” he suddenly suggested. “Then as he gets close to the ground we can nobble him.”

“Of course; just the thing;” and Phil, who had heard Petroff address his friend as “Nicholas”, called to him in a low voice.

At first there was no response; but presently the man above moved, and they heard him grumble something, and evidently turn over to sleep again.

“Nicholas, here are the English. Remember our reward,” cried Phil in a harsh tone.

“Ah, what?” they heard the man say. Then there were sounds as if he had risen to his feet and fallen again. But he was evidently fully aroused, and soon his legs appeared through the opening above searching for the first of the niches. He found it, and commenced to descend, while Phil and Tony crept a little closer and prepared to dart out from beneath the shelter of the cart and overpower him. Suddenly there was an oath as one foot slipped from its hold, then a sharp cry of fear, and before either Phil or Tony could utter an exclamation, the unhappy Cossack, overpowered by drink, had lost his hold and fallen like a sack to the ground, where he lay huddled in a heap, while a crimson stream ran from his ears and nose.

Phil crept to his side and found that he was dead.

“We are saved our trouble,” he said sorrowfully. “The poor fellow has smashed his skull. What’s to be done, Tony?”

His friend looked blankly round and shook his head.

“Blest if I know, Phil! Here we are with two Russian coves, one of them dead, and here we’ve got to stick for a matter of four hours and more. It beats me. The farmer chap saw them both come in here, and it won’t take long for him to search. It’s a regular fixer.”

“And the worst of it is too, Tony, that if we are found with this dead man we shall be accused of having killed him. I have it. We’ll hoist him to the loft again, and place the other fellow alongside him. Then we’ll take up our quarters there. If we are discovered we can make a good fight for it, and if the farmer comes in search he may think his unwelcome visitors have left the shed to investigate some other spot and will return to his house.”

Tony looked at his friend as if to say, “Well, you’re a good ’un,” and, without venturing on a remark, stepped to the wall and returned with the traces which had already served as a rope. One of these was buckled round the dead man, and the other trace attached. Then both climbed into the loft and hoisted their burden after them. Another trip and the still unconscious figure of their enemy Petroff was dragged up beside them. The harness was returned to its peg, and with a hasty glance round to make sure that there was nothing about the shed to show that a struggle had taken place within it, Phil and Tony climbed into the hay-loft and sat down to regain their breath and rest after their exertions.

Two hours passed almost in silence, when Phil suddenly slapped his knee and gave a sharp exclamation of delight.

“We’ll reach our friends yet, old man,” he said enthusiastically. “I’ve thought the whole thing over and have decided what to do. At first I imagined that our best way would be to relieve these gentlemen of their clothing in exchange for ours. But it would not do. If we were captured it would mean a file of muskets at six in the morning, for we should certainly be condemned as spies.”

Tony grunted hoarsely, showing that he had a decided dislike to this arrangement.

“But though we do not take their clothes, we will make free with their swords and ponies,” continued Phil, “and so soon as it is dark we will get away from this. By riding at night, and making allowances for the wide détours we shall be compelled to undertake, we should reach our friends in three days at most. We have still a large piece of meat left, and with that and the bread that remains, and an occasional drink of water, we must be satisfied. Now we’ll secure this fellow. Slip down and get some of that harness, like a brick, will you, Tony?”

That evening, soon after dusk had fallen, two stealthy figures crept from the shed, and stole towards the outhouse in which the Cossack ponies were kept. The door was only latched, and, waiting merely to slip on the bridles and tighten the girths, the two adventurous Englishmen vaulted into the saddle and rode out into the night. They were not gone many minutes when the farmer, wondering at the prolonged absence of the Cossacks, and having seen them turn their ponies into the shed, came to see if the animals were still there, and, finding them gone, returned in anything but a pleasant mood to his house.

“Those two brutes are gone, wife,” he said testily. “They have not even thanked us for our hospitality, nor paid for the vodka which they drank. May it kill them then is all that I wish!”

Had he but known it, his unkind thought had already been partially accomplished, for in his hay-loft one of the Cossacks lay dead, a victim indeed to the fiery spirit, while the second, destined for many days to be sick in his house, and demand careful nursing and feeding at his expense, reclined, unconscious, in a heap of straw, bound hand and foot, but left ungagged, a circumstance of which he took advantage early in the morning by screaming for help at the top of his voice.