“He’s sure to find that,” said Fred to himself.  “He’ll come down here looking for me, and I suppose he’d go out, too, no matter how dangerous it might be, if I didn’t leave this note.”

As he swung the door that let him out, Fred felt the little thrill that always came to him when he opened the way thus to the outer air.  Ever since he had come upon the German soldier here the first time, he had had this feeling.  This time, however, the way was clear, and he slipped out and made his way swiftly toward the parsonage.  He took advantage of every bit of cover for he had no wish to be seen, at least as yet.  Soon he reached the vantage spot he sought.  From it he commanded a view of the village, and of the entrance to the great Suvaroff house on the hill as well.

The dismal procession from the village had already begun.  The place, in fact, was already almost entirely deserted.  Orders from the army evidently counted for a good deal here.  Fred wondered what Americans would have done in a like case.  But the departure of the villagers, who knew him, and might have recognized him even in his German guise, relieved him immensely.  Before the house on the hill he could see a mounted Uhlan on guard over the horses.  The rest had gone inside.  There were only five of them altogether, which made him feel confident that none would be left behind.  There were too few for that.

As time passed, he wondered why they stayed inside so long.  In a way, it was to his liking that they should, but it made him nervous.  He was afraid that a real search was being made; afraid that, by some stroke of misfortune, Boris’s hiding-place had been revealed.  But at last he saw the solitary horseman outside the house stiffen to rigid attention.  Then the others came out, and he almost shouted in his relief when he saw that they brought no one with them.  The officer swung to his saddle and in a minute more the little command was cantering down the hill.  Fred looked at the village searchingly now.  There was no one left.  A quarter of a mile away the rear end of the wretched procession of refugees straggled along the road, going west.  They were not looking back.

Now it was time to put his plan to the test.  The chances of full success, as he understood perfectly, were most remote.  And the danger was great.  He had not seen these Uhlans; there might well be someone even in that small party who would recognize him.  And he knew what would happen then, if he were caught.  But his plan compelled him to run that risk, and he emerged from his shelter, and struck out boldly along the road the Uhlans had taken to come to the village.  He walked northeast, and he knew that that in itself would be suspicious, but it was all part of his plan.

He had not long to wait for the plan to begin, or at least to work out according to his calculations.  Behind him he heard a shout, but, affecting not to hear it, he did not turn.  And in a few moments he heard the sound of galloping hoofs behind him.  Even then he did not turn until a Uhlan had ridden past him.