Knight Without Armour

After a short time it was evident that the searchers numbered far more than two; whistling proceeded from every direction, and sounded rather as if fresh searchers were coming up at every moment. Then came echoes of shouting and talking, but voices did not carry very well and he could not catch any words. He judged, however, that some sort of a consultation was in progress. Next followed a chorus of whistling and counter-whistling from both sides, the meaning of which was only too easy to guess.

“They’re coming through!” she gasped.

He whispered: “I daresay they’ve got the sense to realise that this is a good place to hide. And so it is, too. There are so many of them there’s bound to be over-lapping and confusion. Keep calm. We’ve still a good chance.” The approach of almighty danger gave him a feeling of exaltation as difficult to understand as to control. He went on, a moment later: “Leaves—these leaves. A childish trick, but it might work. I want you to lie down in this hollow and let me cover you up.”

“Yes, if you wish.”

He placed her so that, with the leaves over her, there seemed no break in the level ground. The whistling by this time was very much nearer, and there could be heard also the tearing and breaking of twigs as some of the searchers broke through. He whispered: “Keep still—don’t move or say a word. And whatever happens, trust me and don’t be surprised. Whatever happens, mind.” A moment afterwards the tousled head of a Red soldier, streaked with dirt and perspiration, pushed itself through the undergrowth a few yards away. A.J. did not wait to be accosted. Wiping his forehead with his sleeve and kicking up some of the litter of twigs, he shouted: “Hallo? Found anything yet? There’s nothing here.”

The man answered: “Nor here either, Tovarish. It’s my belief she didn’t go into the forest at all. And if she did, she wouldn’t have got so far as this. It’s a terrible job, searching through this sort of country on a hot day.”

A J. agreed sympathetically. “You’re right, my friend—its the devil’s own job. And I’ve lost my whistle too, confound it.”

The other laughed. “Never mind, I’ll whistle for you.” He gave two mighty blasts. “That’ll show we’ve done our duty, anyway. Have a drink with me, Tovarish, and It’s get out of this muddle.”

A.J. accepted the offer by no means ungratefully, for he wanted the drink badly enough. The soldier seemed a simple, good-natured fellow, with a childishness, however, that was quite capable of being dangerous. “You were with the other lot, I suppose?” he queried, and A.J. nodded. They struggled through the thickets and reached at last the open ground. There a few other soldiers were already gathered together, evidently satisfied that they had performed their share of the search. They were all rather disgruntled. It was a ticklish moment when A.J. joined them, but his highest hopes were realised; there had been a tremendous amount of confusion and no man expected to know his neighbour. The chief concern of all was the food and drink due to arrive from the forests below.

A.J. found them a friendly lot of men, behind their temporary ill-humour; he soon learned that they had been promised a large reward for the discovery of the escaped Countess, and that the latter, if captured alive, was to be accorded a solemn full-dress execution in the market-place at Saratursk. “She will be hanged, not shot,” said one of the men, rolling a cigarette between grimy fingers. And he added contemplatively: “It is a pity, in some ways, to hang a woman, because their necks are made differently. I am a hangman by profession, and I can speak from knowledge.”

Soon a few men came toiling up the valley with sacks of bread and buckets of thin potato-soup. The searchers greeted them boisterously, relieved them of their burdens, and began to eat and drink ravenously. A.J. and his tousled companion, whose name was Stephanov, managed to secure a loaf of black bread between them, as well as a large can of soup. Stephanov was not astonished that A.J. knew none of the men. “That is the worst of the army nowadays,” he said. “They shift you about so quickly that you never get to know anybody. It was different in the old days when there were proper regiments.” He went on chatting away in a manner most helpful to A.J. “I suppose all the others have got lost—that’s what usually happens. I only know one of the fellows here by name. That’s little Nikolai Roussilov over there. Do you see him? That man snoring against that tree-trunk.” A.J. looked and observed. “I can tell you a secret, Tovarish, about that man—and though you’ll hardly believe it, I assure you it’s the heavenly truth and nothing less.” He dropped his voice to a hoarse whisper. “That man was once kissed by the Emperor.”