we were quite prepared to give our visitors a warm reception before a sign of the soldiers or of Spernow was visible.
Both Zoiloff and I kept an anxious lookout from a window in the roof of the cottage which gave a view of a considerable portion of the lane that led to the homestead; but the minutes crept on until a quarter of an hour, half an hour, an hour passed without a sign or trace of either our friend or our enemies; and, indeed, until we grew as anxious to see the former as to know we had escaped from the latter.
What could it mean? Zoiloff and I exchanged many an anxious question and hazarded many futile guesses. I was inclined to hope that the soldiers had not seen us after all, and that in our little hiding-place we had not only escaped them, but had been overlooked by any other parties that might have been despatched in search of us.
At the end of an hour I sent Zoiloff down to see that food was prepared both for the men and for our horses; and when another hour passed without any sign of disturbance the hopes of all of us began to rise. The one thing that had caused me more anxiety than anything else was the obstacle which daylight presented to a successful flight; and when noon came and passed, and the afternoon shadows began to lengthen, I was glad enough; for every hour that passed diminished the risk and increased our chances of getting to the frontier unseen in the darkness of the night.
Moreover, the rest was just what the horses needed; and thus on both accounts the hanging hours of safety on that hot summer's day were doubly precious to us. Markov was certain that under the cover of the night he could find his road unerringly; and though his blun-
