This time Dick was able to walk two or three miles before dropping back to the hospital wagon.  The next day he went still farther, and by the end of a week announced himself to be as strong as ever, and the doctor allowed that he could now be trusted to travel.

On this night they had halted at a point where a road, running east and west, crossed the great road to the Crimea.  Before starting, the boys had a long chat with their friend the doctor, who furnished them with military passes which he had procured from an officer.  These testified that Ivan Petrofski and Alexis Meranof, of the 5th Polish Regiment, were proceeding home on sick-furlough.

The signature of the colonel was no doubt fictitious, but this mattered but little.  Jack inquired whether their absence in the morning would not be likely to be remarked; but the doctor said that the head of the party had been informed by Demetri that the two strangers would only accompany them for a few days’ march, and had only been hired to satisfy the authorities that the right number of men had been furnished, for the want of hands on the estate was now so great owing to the heavy drain of conscripts to fill up the losses caused by the war, that the count had been glad to retain the services of the two who had been left behind.  There was therefore to be no remark concerning the disappearance of the new hands, but the others were to take charge of their carts, and if possible the authorities were to be kept unacquainted with the fact that their number was incomplete.

The peasants’ dresses were now exchanged for the uniforms of Russian soldiers.  Dick’s head was wrapped in bandages, and his arm placed in a sling.  Jack’s leg was also enveloped in bandages, the trousers being slit up to the hip, and the sides loosely tied together by a piece of string, and the doctor gave him a pair of crutches, the same as those used in regimental hospitals.

“Now you will do,” he said, surveying them by the light of a lantern.  “Many of the soldiers who have joined since the outbreak of the war are mere boys, so your age will not be against you, only pray for a time give up all idea as to the necessity of washing.  The dirtier your hands and faces, the better, especially if the dirt will hide your clear healthy color, which is very unlike the sallow complexions almost universal among our peasantry.  And now, good-bye.  I move about too much to hope to receive any letter from you, but as you have of course arranged with Count Preskoff to send him word when you have safely crossed the frontier, I shall hear of you from him.”

With many deep and hearty thanks for the kindness he had shown them, the boys parted from him, and, setting their faces to the west, took the road to Odessa.  Jack carried his crutches on his shoulders, as also the long strap which, when he used them, was to pass over his neck, and down under his foot, keeping it off the ground.