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 little more than two from the branch road I am making for."

"We've only a few minutes more on the main road, I said, falling back to Zoiloff; "and, once away from it, our chances will be fifty in a hundred better. It's this road I've feared."

"Ha! Here comes news!" exclaimed my companion suddenly, a few minutes afterwards, turning in his saddle and looking back. "And bad news too," he added.

A single horseman was dashing down a hill behind us, and as we turned a number of other horsemen reached the crest and came streaming down the hill after him, the sunlight glistening through the cloud of white dust as it fell on their arms.

"That should be Spernow and our men," said I anxiously.

"It is Spernow, but they're not our men. I feared it meant mischief. They are troopers; and I can count a dozen of them. Tell Markov to drive like the wind. They're after us."

A bend in the road at that moment cut off our view, and almost directly afterwards Markov turned away to the left into a narrow lane, putting his horses to the gallop.

"We shall have to fight for it, Count," cried Zoiloff. "There didn't seem more than a dozen troopers that I could see, and, with Spernow, we shall be six. We can hold them at bay in this narrow lane, and perhaps drive them off."

At that moment a loud shout of dismay came from Markov, and we saw him pull his horses up in a scramble.

"What's the matter?" I called, riding up.

"I've taken the wrong lane, your Honour, cursed