There were no witnesses for Fred to call.  He told his own story, but it was not believed.  The finding of the court was inevitable:  “Guilty as charged!” And Colonel Goldapp, in an expressionless voice, pronounced sentence.

“The prisoner is old enough, though he is only a boy, to know the fate of a spy.  He risked this fate.  He will be shot at once.  Captain von Glahn will take charge of the execution of the court’s sentence.”

Fred passed through the minutes that followed as if he were in a dream.  It seemed to him that it was someone else who was led into the garden, placed against a wall, and blindfolded.  Von Glahn, a young officer, came and stood beside him.

“The firing squad will be here at once,” he said.  “I am sorry.  Is there any message I can deliver for you?”

And then outside a bugle rang out, and there was a burst of wild, frenzied yelling and the next moment a crash of firing.

CHAPTER XI

THE COSSACKS

Something fell against Fred, something heavy and warm.  It was a full minute before he realized that it was von Glahn, staggering, coughing.  He supported the German officer for a moment.  Then they went down together with von Glahn, still coughing terribly, on top.  That saved Fred’s life.  For over him now, for the next five minutes, there raged a furious fight.  Horses were all through the grounds; Fred heard them, and the savage, unearthly cries of their riders.  For the first minute there was a good deal of firing.  He guessed that the firing squad that had been meant for him was putting up a stiff struggle; later he knew it.

Then abruptly it was all over.  There was no sound save the groans of wounded men.  The firing ceased, and with it the fierce shouts of those who had invaded the garden at that most critical of moments.  Fred realized afterward that he must have fainted, for when next he could see and hear, there was a faint light in the sky.  He was aroused by the moving of the heavy weight of von Glahn’s body, and looked up to see a bearded man, small and wiry, in a rough sheepskin coat, who grinned down at him.

“Not hurt, eh, comrade?” said this man in Russian.  He seemed surprised when Fred answered in his own tongue, and started back.  But he had pushed the body of the German captain away, and Fred rose to his feet a little unsteadily.  It was a wild, strange scene upon which his eyes rested.  All about the place where he had lain the ground was covered with evidences of a furious struggle.  Nearly a score of Germans lay about, dead.  Among them were half a dozen Cossacks, and over one of these stood a riderless horse, muzzling his master’s body inquisitively.  Fred was about to question the man who had relieved him of von Glahn’s weight when there was a sudden rush, and Boris, sobbing with delight, threw his arms about him and kissed him on both cheeks.