Ah! Madam! Here they come!
The Cossacks are going back."
As he spoke, the surly mutineers were riding slowly towards the
coach. Every man had his pistol on the high pommel of the saddle. Their
faces wore an ugly look. As they passed the officer, one of them,
pointing ahead of him with his sword, shouted savagely, "Balak!"
It was conclusive and convincing. They were deserting her.
"Oh, oh, oh! The cowards!" sobbed Beverly in rage and despair. "I must
go on! Is it possible that even such men would leave--"
She was interrupted by the voice of the officer, who, raising his cap to
her, commanded at the same time the driver to turn his horses and follow
the escort to Balak.
"What is that?" demanded Beverly in alarm.
From far off came the sound of firearms. A dozen shots were fired, and
reverberated down through the gloomy pass ahead of the coach.
"They are fighting somewhere in the hills in front of us," answered the
now frightened officer. Turning quickly, he saw the deserting horsemen
halt, listen a minute, and then spur their horses. He cried out sharply
to the driver, "Come, there! Turn round! We have no time to lose!"
With a savage grin, the hitherto motionless driver hurled some insulting
remark at the officer, who was already following his men, now in full
flight down the road, and settling himself firmly on the seat, taking a
fresh grip of the reins, he yelled to his horses, at the same time
lashing them furiously with his whip, and started the coach ahead at a
fearful pace.
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